


Endeared by Your Death

by MortalAnonymous



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Companionable Snark, Cute, Dorks in Love, Drama, During Canon, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Gay, Humor, Illustrations, M/M, Origin Story, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, True Love, Unrequited Crush, Yaoi, this man is an idiot he is mine now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortalAnonymous/pseuds/MortalAnonymous
Summary: An impulse like so many of Dakota's others somehow turns into a lifetime commitment. He can't explain it. It's Cavendish. Whaddya gonna do?Edit: rating upped for one illustration.
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 149
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd originally wanted to make an origin story, but then about 25 pages in the episode portraying that came out. I jumped ship over canon concerns for about a year, but finally went back, tweaked, and feel like I can continue. I wasn't far off on some points at least. And this time around I'm posting before completion in hopes that it will spur me on.

A tall man with faded red hair in a trim green suit reminiscent of the 1800s strode with purpose towards the doors of the Bureau of Time Travel, but with a spring in his step. His face was far more youthful than his years and his energy matching, and today he was all smiles, for he was on his way to the welcoming ceremony in this building. His application had been accepted! He'd passed the initiation exam and the interview with flying colors! Things were looking very up for Balthazar T. Cavendish!

Things did hit a bit of a snag once he entered the building, for he did not actually know where he was going, but he had directions, and he was not afraid to ask for help. Unfortunately it was a very crowded day, thanks to not only the agency being busy in general, managing the timestream and all, but to the swarm of new recruits joining Cavendish for their ceremony. Even a handful of old pros were here to check out the group.

Eventually Cavendish found the room the event was being held in. It was a party-style affair, mingling encouraged for the first portion of the day, for how else was one meant to get a feel for future coworkers? It was held in a massive round room with classy pillars of marble and even a fountain in the middle. A buffet was provided, and off to the side there was a mobile stage with several dozen chairs that everyone would hear a presentation at later before officially sent into the field, but other than that people were just talking. The mood was friendly, easy and yet still professional. It filled Cavendish with hope as he took a deep inhale, straightened himself up even higher and headed inside.

“Hello, my good people!” he greeted a small cluster near the punch bowl with a hearty tip of his hat. The four who'd been talking looked over with surprised expressions, being interrupted by such a chipper and voluminous out-dated phrase. They radiated experience and this newcomer...did not. “Pleasure to make your acquaintances, oh, I am just chuffed to be here! Please, don't let me interrupt. I'd love to hear some thrilling anecdotes about saving the world and whatnot.” He snorted lightly here, too giddy to contain himself. “I'm sure I'll have some of my own soon enough. New hire and all.” His eyebrows bounced enticingly.

Four stares looked blankly back, none of the others having an idea of how to process this. “Um...right,” the woman of the group, who'd been leading the conversation, finally broke the silence, “Anyway, as I was saying about my thesis on the fourth dimension, I'm just pointing out that the applications of breaking into it could save us time travelers from ever having to be stranded again. You could literally pull time juice from any point in time.”

One of the men chipped in. “Yes, but think of the consequences..! What if say, you borrowed keys from yourself? Then it would be _that_ you stuck instead.”

“Ah, but you could always take another set,” countered the woman, “Plus you could always give them _back_. I believe the timestream can actually be used to duplicate useful items and--”

“Ah yes, fourth dimensional applications!” Cavendish decided to push further into his attempts to make an impression, not registering that the topic was already too deep for him to inject naturally into. “I took a minor in that the third time I went through University. Not to toot, but I _have_ done my fair share of studying over the years.” Another, more awkward giggling snort. “And I must say, that while the process of entropy does allow for backtracking...”

He did not register the annoyed looks he was getting.

“...did you also know that time is technically irreversible? Ha! Imagine! We're going to be time travelers and yet we can only divert the flow of time. Not stop it! We'd better hope there are no screw-ups at any critical junctures, eh wot?” A hearty chuckle at his so-called jest.

The others looked at each other, simultaneously coming to an agreement. “Of course we know? We're time travelers?” one of the other men said with a scoff. How could they _not_ know how the timestream worked? They had to pass an exam about it to get in. The group turned from the awkward, oddly-dressed man and began walking away.

“Ah. Yes, well...” Cavendish flustered, hurrying to think of a way to make the others stay. “I just meant that...I'm excited for the job is all. I mean your theory is um...quite interesting! Not my area of expertise perhaps, but I do want to hear more..! I'm sure I can follow!”

He was attempting to follow already, reaching after the retreating backs and stepping forward. He did not notice in his rush that his ankle had snagged in the long tablecloth, and before he knew it he'd stumbled, flailing and spinning around before crashing right on top of the table, folding it in half and sending the punch bowl soaring. That flipped over and landed quite heavily on his head, soaking him and the surrounding area in an instant.

Others looked over, including the group Cavendish had been trying to approach. Those few exchanged another look, affirming their decision to avoid him, and left for the other side of the room. Everyone else stepped a bit farther away from the ruined table as well, resuming their own conversations and firmly establishing a first impression about Cavendish, although it likely wasn't the one he'd intended.

Disgruntled, Cavendish lifted the rim of the bowl and let out an irritated sound. Perhaps he ought to get a better hold of his enthusiasm. No matter! He could still make a name for himself. He could still make a good impression. Why, no one had even commented on his little accident. Surely the situation was salvageable. With determination Cavendish stood and began attempting to salvage his appearance and his dignity.

Meanwhile, about thirty feet away, a short man with a sloppy frizzy brown afro, thick orange prescription sunglasses and an olive complexion had been bored, watching the room now and again but mostly fixing his eyes on the plate piled with finger food he'd been scarfing. His other hand held a cup of punch, so he'd had no shame in eating directly with his face.

A perky voice caught his attention. A loud, perky British voice that was unlike any of the other dry, stuffy voices in here. He looked up to see where it was coming from and had to double-take. The man the voice belonged to was just as noteworthy. He stuck out like a sore thumb. A green thumb. He was dressed so differently to everyone around him. And his demeanor was so...energetic. Animated. He was also the man he'd hijacked a training car from, gone on an adventure to the twenty-first century with, by chance saving some kids from a hairy situation, and then requested to have as his partner. Partners were required in a field as messy as this, and after having witnessed him in the field, he'd _needed_ his to be this man. Even at the risk of him ratting Dakota out for his aforementioned hijacking. Which the man hadn't. Even more reason to want him as a partner. Integrity.

Then in the next second the tall near-stranger had gracelessly flipped himself into the table and dumped the entire punch bowl on his own head. Dakota snorted. "Oh yeah,” he declared to himself, “He's the one." If there was anyone he was going to talk to at this party, it was that guy. The short man quickly dumped the entire remainder of his plate into his mouth and started over to the man picking himself up off the floor, pausing only to deposit his dish on a passing waiter's tray and ignoring the annoyed look he got for doing so.

"Hey buddy, what's your story?"

Cavendish, wringing out his coattails, perked hearing himself addressed. He turned with delight that someone had taken an interest in him, but paused noting the inappropriate attire of the short man he faced. The man was wearing a studded leather jacket with worn cargo pants. And a gold chain around his neck. It was very out of line with the semi-formal dress code. This was also a man Cavendish had previously met. Dismayed to see his new partner had not opted to dress in a less scruffy manner for the ceremony, Cavendish opted not to mention it. And while this man might not be the one he'd most prefer to talk to in the room, delight won out. "Oh, me? Well, uh...Balthazar T. Cavendish! Pleased to meet you formally at last. I hail from Yorkshondon, England and was a top graduate at the University of--"

"No no, not your _life_ story, although I'm sure it's riveting, I mean how did you manage to _become_ the punch bowl, and why are you dressed like a Professor Time cosplayer?" As he spoke he casually reached to take hold of one of Cavendish's sopping coattails and wrung himself a topper for his punch.

"Oh, um..." Cavendish was caught off-guard by this breezy attitude and rather careless invasion of his personal space. Not to mention the questionable hygiene of the matter. "Cosplayer..?" was all he found himself echoing.

"Yeah, you know, someone who goes around dressed up as a character, often accompanied by roleplay, et cetera...what's your deal? You into that?"

"Oh, heavens no..! My attire is nothing so frivolous as that." He wasn't dismissing such a pastime, but it simply wasn't something Cavendish engaged in, nor was it the reasoning behind his outfit. "These are my good clothes, for the event! I dress myself in honor of the great Professor Time! He's my idol, you know. My hero..!"

"Ah, I see, a fanboy," Dakota nodded, understanding and simplifying what he'd been told, "Sort of unusual for someone your age, but hey, I like it. It's cute." He meant it honestly, but it might have come off as patronizing. Dakota wasn't always the best at conveying things that weren't sarcasm. Cavendish's furrowing brow might have indicated a faux pas if Dakota was any better at picking up certain subtleties. He took a sip of his freshly-squeezed punch and smacked his lips, analyzing the flavor 'coattail' added to the beverage. Clothy. Not the worst he'd had, though.

Cavendish folded his arms as the other man seemingly ignored his offense, reforming a first opinion that the other man was decidedly a slack-jawed slob. "What about you, then?" he retorted, "Why are _you_ still dressed like some aspiring mafioso layabout?" It was the exact same outfit they'd met in.

Dakota looked at himself and tugged at his loose-fitting jacket. Huh. He'd never considered it that way. He guessed he _did_ look like that. He smiled and gave a little snort as he imagined himself in an incredibly lazy mafia. Looking back to a far less amused Cavendish he explained, "I'm dressed how I like. I don't see the point in dressing up in some monkey suit just for this." He waved vaguely around at the room. “Though I also have done some research on different time periods, looking up clothes for the job, and I've been thinking of swapping. I really took a liking to the Seventies. Really comfortable clothes. Lots of funk. I hope to visit there someday.” His hand affectionately patted his poorly-shaped afro, signifying he'd already gotten a start on testing the style out. Then he took another look at Cavendish's clothes. "Hmm. If I'm remembering right, I think the Professor Time getup is actually pretty Seventies-y too. The look is pretty versatile. The people I've talked to didn't seem to think so, though. 'Track suits aren't colonial', my fanny pack..."

The more Cavendish heard, the less he was believing. This man was actually going to be a bona fide time agent with him? "What―track suits? You'd consider that on par with...this?" Could all he do was echo each new incredulous thing he discovered?

Dakota blinked like being surprised someone might find that detail worth noting. "Oh yeah, I love the leather and it really reflects my disdain for authority, but I'm thinking maybe something even more casual would be good for work. Speakin' of, what do you think about this job we're gettin' into anyway? Me, I'm looking forward to the perks. Pays well enough. Free housing. Gets me out. But hey, if you have any questions about wardrobe, you can come to me, pal. Oh, that's right, I never actually introduced myself back, did I? Vinnie Dakota, nice to re-meetchya." Enthusiastically he reached to fish out the hand Cavendish had tucked into his elbow and shake it.

Cavendish was dumbfounded. This man...was a ninny.

"Yes, well...I remember." The taller man had fast decided he needed to escape. He was here to do great things, after all. Fight the good fight. He would never accomplish that by standing around talking to a slovenly washout who clearly didn't care about his job. "And I appreciate the offer, but if you don't mind, I think I'm just going to toddle off to the washroom and have myself a quick dry." Pulling his arm back, Cavendish made it quite clear he was set on departing by turning away.

Dakota perked. "Oh hey! You want me to show you where it is? I scoped 'em out already. I'll take you to the one with the _good_ blow dryer, too; you'll be all dappered up in no time."

Cavendish blanched when the hint wasn't taken. "No-no! That's fine. Thank you, Mr. Dakota, but please don't trouble yourself. I'm more than capable of locating a bathroom by my lonesome." After this hasty declaration, he scurried away to prove it, in actuality completely unsure of where he was going but not wanting to be followed. In his fluster he ended up darting for a set of doors he saw with the bathroom symbol on them and forcing through them, but sharply found himself careening down an elevator shaft. His elongated cry was heard fading into the distance, followed by a thunk. As it turned out, those doors were only for the transport _to_ the bathroom and were not in fact the bathroom itself.

Dakota took another sip of his punch after watching this escapade, then smiling surely. "Yeah, I like him. He's silly." Good thing they were only on the first floor. Dakota supposed as the main witness, he ought to alert the medical team, so he headed off to go find them. And some more buffet snacks.

Cavendish was thankfully none the worse for wear after his tumble. He was checked out by a pair of medics and there was nothing they couldn't fix, so he was let go and able to return to the party. Firstly, however, Cavendish got himself directions to the _real_ bathroom and spruced up as best he could. He counted himself lucky that his spectacles had survived, but he could not salvage his suit entirely. He still ended up looking a bit rumpled, and by this point the stains of punch had set in, so there were several swirls of fuchsia in with his green.

It was not his best look, but as he finished primping his hair Cavendish bucked up his posture and sent his reflection a determined nod. This was all just a minor setback. He'd always had the gumption to get him through, and by Jove he was not going to let this stop him from becoming the best time agent there ever was!

Unfortunately, following interactions the gentleman attempted did not go much better than his first and second. Somehow everyone he talked to did not share quite his level of enthusiasm for the job, or at least not in the same way. Everyone acted so very serious, like they knew all the answers already and like they _had_ saved the world a few times. In short, they seemed...cooler than Cavendish felt. He had to say it was strange to feel so excluded. Normally his academic feats were enough to get him recognized, and he'd already held a number of impressive positions, so being the one unable to keep up with the conversations and the one looked down on for his fiery spirit was quite odd indeed. Normally even his clumsiness was but a minor flaw that he and his peers could laugh off, but here his fellow inductees all seemed to find any slight bumble made him a clown. Perhaps maybe a leaning towards misfortune wasn't the _best_ quality for one going into managing the timestream itself, but he hardly felt it deserved the cold shoulder. He'd still _passed_ the initiation same as the rest of them. He ought to deserve a chance.

Then it finally came time for the main ceremony. Every agent, new and established, gathered at the stage. The pros got a row of chairs behind the podium, and Mr. Block, the head of the entire branch for time management, gave a speech welcoming the new recruits. He went into some more details about how the job was going to work, and about the rules of their required partnerships, and not to worry if things didn't work out because transfers were able to be requested. There was no telling for sure how well a team would function until they'd had field experience together after all, and no one was allowed to enter the field by themselves. They all needed someone to watch their backs in business this tricky.

Mr. Block went on to mention some recruits would be getting special recognition based on their performance in the training program.

Cavendish felt butterflies at the prospect of being chosen by some well-established mentor. He could visualize it now, wowing him or her with his impressive knowledge and success in the field, laughing at everyone who'd been scoffing at him over the last couple of hours...petty, maybe, but it would feel good to have his actual talents recognized at the office.

“First on the docket for outstanding achievement...him. There's one that's seriously one to watch, folks.”

Blinking out of his daydreaming, Cavendish noted that the man at the podium had gestured proudly out into the crowd, and oh! Was he indicating at..?

“He's already going to be reassigned to our other best new recruit, Savannah!” Mr. Block beamed approvingly at the woman who had come up to stand next to him onstage for her accolades, “I knew you were gonna want to snatch up the other top pick for yourself. You know I hear he aced all his classes - including nine different martial arts programs. Just like you!”

Cavendish hadn't heard past “aced all his classes” and had already stood, sure Mr. Block must know how worthy a “pick” he was. “Oh!” exclaimed the Englishman, waving, “I say, are you pointing at me? I don't know about _aced_ , haha, but I'm quite flattered! I never thought in all my years that I'd be--”

“Yeah, well keep thinking for a few _more_ years, pal, because they were talking about _me._ ” The sour tone came from the man sitting next to Cavendish; a tall, brawny, slick-haired man who had also been part of the first group the older man had approached. He recognized the woman as the one who'd been leading that first conversation.

“Exactly,” Mr. Block chipped in, a bit irritated by the interruption, “Is your name 'Brick' too, Greeny?” He knew it wasn't.

Cavendish blushed. Drat his wandering thoughts, he hadn't been paying attention and so hadn't heard any names being discussed. “Erm...well, no, I...”

Snickers and scoffs rippled through the crowd as Brick stood and gave Cavendish a look as sour as his tone for ruining his moment, then turned and headed for the stage so he could get declared. While looking away meekly, Cavendish noted one man in the crowd nearby openly amused at his blunder, failing quite badly at holding in a grin. It was the buffoon from earlier. Wonderful. It felt humiliating to have even _that_ simpleton look down on him.

Savannah narrowed her eyes at the green-suited nimrod also ruining her spotlight. “Yeah, let me spell this out for you, newbie,” she scolded, “Don't get your hopes up. I like the cut of this guy's jib.” She gestured her hand towards the man coming to her side. “Your jib is currently covered in punch stains.”

Cavendish clutched at his beverage-dyed coat in shame. Her words were cleverly biting as well. They brought further snickers and stung quite efficiently.

But Savannah had more to say. “This is a serious job. No one is going to want punch bowl tippers or elevator klutzes. And certainly not _first_. Quite honestly, if you can make that much of a mess of yourself without even seeing the field, I'd consider another line of work if I were you.”

Great shame was now on Cavendish's cheeks. This woman...certainly wasn't soft with her opinions, was she? The older man greatly wanted to respond, but he felt tongue-tied with all these eyes around him, and he just couldn't seem to wake his wit to match hers at the moment. Oh dear, was the world starting to get fuzzy..?

“Oo, oo! Is that the green guy? No, see, I totally called dibs on the green guy!” A sarcastic, gravelly voice cut through the air this time. Cavendish refocused to see that man with the frizzy hair darting from his seat to hip check the taller woman away from the podium and steal her place. He no longer appeared amused. In fact he looked rather annoyed. Savannah was annoyed too, crossing her arms in affront.

The short Italian man went on. “I don't know where you get off, _Savannah_ , but if you weren't first, this guy totally could've been. I have been so ready to pick him, I just...you're wrong, Savannah. You're wrong is what I'm trying to say. You're wrong and you're rude.” Admittedly, he hadn't exactly known where he was going with this when he jumped in, but he couldn't just sit there and watch some poor schmuck get dumped on for no reason. That kind of thing made his blood boil, especially since he got a lot of it himself, and quite honestly he was not a fan of the way the higher ups liked to discriminate. It was something he would like to change about the industry.

Mr. Block barked back, “And you're out of order! Sit down, Dakota!”

Dakota shrugged in his defense. “I'm just sayin'.”

Savannah stepped back over to reclaim her spot and pushed the shorter man out of her way. “Yes, well, no one's going to want to partner up with the motormouth who has a terrible reputation either, so I guess that works out for you both.”

Dakota looked unimpressed. Mr. Block leaned in to borrow the microphone. “Well said. And just to be sure, did anyone else have aspirations for Mishap Man and The Joker over here? Anyone else have a hopeful eye on working with these bozos?”

He scanned the silent crowd carefully. Everyone was averting their eyes, and the only thing breaking the dead air were a couple of awkward coughs.

“Great. Looks like you two were meant for each other. You know what? Green Guy, just get up here and take your oath so we can get on with it.”

Cavendish had been in a stunned sort of daze since Dakota had stepped in. It was...quite noble to step in for his defense. It wasn't unrecognized what he'd done. Perhaps Cavendish had been too hard on him, realizing only now that he'd been judging Dakota in quite the same way everyone else had been judging _him_...but wait, had Dakota said he'd been his first choice for partnership? Was he...serious? That gave Cavendish mixed feelings. He actually...still didn't want to be that man's partner forever. Gratitude aside, this Dakota character had expressed a distinct lack of zeal towards his job, and would no doubt be a hindrance to Cavendish's goals of proving himself.

“Cumberbund! Don't make me repeat myself! Get your rear in gear before I dock your salary _before_ your first failure!” Mr. Block's high hopes were assuredly encouraging.

Cavendish flinched and scrambled to join the others onstage. Once there his posture was meekly hunched. He hadn't meant for all this to turn into such a scene...

Standing beside the other new recruit, Dakota gave him a friendly elbow to the side. “Hey, look on the bright side, pal. If we're not wanted here it means we get to get out early. We can go grab lunch..! Whaddya say?”

“L-Lunch..?” Hadn't this man been doing almost nothing but eat food during the whole party? Every time Cavendish had happened to spot him his plate had never looked any emptier. And besides that, how could the man ask that so casually after being utterly humiliated? While still on the very stage it had happened on??

“Cool, sounds like a plan,” Dakota smiled, turning to not even face the other while Mr. Block got their paperwork ready. “You're buying.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cavendish was not sure how he'd found himself here, but indeed he had. He was seated opposite of his new partner in an intimate little booth of a Chinese buffet-style restaurant. After they'd been officially inducted, the British man supposed he must have been in too much of a stupor while trying to process what had happened that he hadn't found time to protest.

Dakota, meanwhile, had already put the past behind him and was just looking forward to celebrating his success in snagging the only guy in the office who looked like any sort of fun, as well as just getting out of said office. “You gonna eat that?” he questioned, pointing to Cavendish's plate with his chopsticks. “Or like...anything?” He wasn't asking to steal it; rather the taller man had been listless since the incident onstage and Dakota wanted to make sure he wasn't broken. Of course if he was _allowed_ to steal it, he wouldn't say no to that either.

“Hm?” Cavendish blinked, first registering the other man, then glancing down to his untouched plate and back up. “Oh, uh, yes. Eventually. I do apologize, and it's not that I'm ungrateful for what you did, but how can you be so...lackadaisical in light of what just happened? That was mortifying..!”

The smaller party waved his hand passively. “Eh, whaddya gonna do? It happened, and it's not like the only time someone's busted my chops. Hey, it worked out for me too, cuz I got what I wanted~..! Best new partner in the room, am I right punch bowl buddy~?” His voice had turned sing-song as he tried to elicit some sort of smile out of the pouty man.

Cavendish's face soured. Perhaps Dakota really was a simpleton after all. “I'd rather not be reminded.” Straightening and looking at the other, however, he was reminded of a burning question. “Were you serious, then? You actually sought me out as your first choice for partnership? I'm not going to be carrying you, if that's what your hopes were...”

“What? No, no...” Looking genuinely confused, Dakota waved both hands negatively now. “I just thought you were unique..! Honestly. Your dumb booksmarts came in real handy during our little misadventure, and you showed you were actually a real stand-up guy despite tryin' to act as stuffy as the rest of those yahoos. Speaking of, you were the only one at that party who looked like he had more than one defining character trait. Your clothes, your voice...you stand out in a room, c'mon. So, y'know, I think you'd be fun to get along with. I was entertained, at least.”

“Ah. So you expect me to be your performing monkey...” Cavendish was glad to have that little mystery wrapped up.

“Ok, now you're just being a sourpuss for no reason. That's not what I said,” Dakota returned flatly. Jeez, it looked like this guy did have his party pooper side after all. Well, whatever, he was still better than getting stuck with one of those other stiffs. They could work on getting him to lighten up. There was a fun center underneath that hard shell, Dakota could sense it. The man was just being sulky right now.

Dakota pressed, “Besides, you are gonna _love_ being partners with me, c'mon, I'm definitely not like those hardcases, no, see _I_ am Mr. Fun.”

With a dry squint, Cavendish noted, “I thought it was 'Dakota'...”

“Heeey, you remembered..! Great, see? We've already got chemistry. This is gonna be great..!” Dakota squinted back in attempt to recollect. “Although, I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten _your_ name...C-Cooperdink, I wanna say..?”

“Cavendish,” the older man corrected automatically, not intending to. He didn't want to get settled in or familiar with this man. His tongue had slipped out of irritation. Ugh, this man was doing it again, somehow tricking more conversation out of him.

“Right, Cavendish,” Dakota smiled and nodded, “Must be the goggles. That's how my mind works. I swear I'll remember it this time though, don't worry. So where do you think they'll have us boarding?” Starting agents basically lived with their partners. It was like their trial period. Having a buddy around all the time was like a safety net. Time agents didn't really get 'homes' anyway, even if they might choose to board separately after they'd gotten enough experience. There was no telling when they'd get new assignments, so it came with the job territory, and was just another reason why getting along and being in sync were so important. They were on the government's clock and dollar. Dakota already lived rather minimalist and solo, and Cavendish was all packed up and ready to leave, but the notion of living with this man was unappealing to say the least.

“I don't know,” the taller man returned shortly, “Wouldn't they just put me in wherever you are since you're more local? Not that I intend for the long-haul.” Perhaps if he was a bit more pointed Dakota would take the hint.

Dakota shrugged. “Who can say? That's why I'm asking. Thought it'd be fun to speculate. If they do move me, I hope I get a mansion. Savannah gets a mansion. I...well, it's...it's different is all.” A pause. “It's a studio flat.”

He was choosing to ignore the slight, it would seem. Cavendish could only react to the sharp contrast in living quarters, however, his head going back in stun. “What the deuce? A studio? In that case I _certainly_ hope they would upgrade us..!” Blast it, there he went talking like they were an item.

Another shrug from the Italian. “I know, right? They've gotta be fair.” He glanced at Cavendish's plate again. “Anyway, I've gotta ask. Why did you get _sushi_ at a _Chinese_ restaurant? For that matter, have you ever thought how weird it is that they serve it in the first place? I mean I'm all for cross-culture, but c'mon..! It even says 'Chi-nese food'.” He narrated the quotation in stilted syllables, spreading his hands to illustrate an imaginary banner.

“Oh, I know..!” Cavendish pounced on the topic upon hearing an oddity he'd always noted in the back of his mind randomly mentioned. “I mean I'll still get it because I _like_ sushi, but it really is so misleading..! At least call it 'Asian cuisine'. You're just misinforming people otherwise..!”

“Right??” Ha. Dakota smiled seeing a crack in Cavendish's grouch armor. He was easy to work, wasn't he? Just catch him off-guard and he spoke without realizing. Looked like they had some similar thought processes, too. Bonus, Dakota just learned something about his new partner.

...

A couple days later, the pair of Cavendish and Dakota got to find out exactly where they were living. Cavendish had already begun the process of filing paperwork to remove himself from Dakota's side, but based on the responses he'd gotten while filing, he was sure no one was actually looking at his request.

There had been laughter. There had been looks that plainly asked if he was serious. And there had been stories. Cavendish had heard plenty about the infamous Vinnie Dakota of the time department. How he was a total screw-up in all previous jobs, not to mention all the other agents' eyes. How he'd barely passed the bar and it was a wonder he managed to do just enough not to get fired before his first mission. How he was an insufferable prankster. How he was a food thief. What a reputation for a new recruit! None of it was making Cavendish feel any better about his situation, and even worse he got to hear about his own social status as well.

His reputation was hardly better. Apparently he was a try-hard and a phony, as well as an embarrassing klutz no one wanted any part of. Just another reason he was told not to get his hopes up about a transfer. Cavendish and Dakota were the most undesirable agents in the building, so they'd better get used to each other. It was...disheartening to say the least.

So now here the two bottom-rung agents were, toting their own personal duffel bags as they looked around the apartment they'd been assigned. Cavendish was dressed back in his regular green and blue high-collared shirt and sleek pants, the form of fashion in the twenty-second century. Dakota was still dressed like a grunge rocker with a bad afro.

They _had_ gotten a new place, which Dakota was certainly stoked about, but it wasn't exactly palatial. It was still an apartment, and it was quite dingy, but there was technically enough room for two people. There were no windows. The arcade-cabinet-sized time phone and mission dispenser was on the back wall next to the locker their gear would come through. There were two desks on opposite sides of the room for paperwork. There was a coffee pot on a coffee-pot-sized rolling endtable. And the only other piece of furniture in the place was a couch.

“Oo, swanky~,” Dakota fanned his hands with a sarcastic smile as they stood in the doorway, “But actually, this is kind of an upgrade for me. Look, it comes with a free couch.” He pointed at the thing. Spotting the one other doorframe in the place, opposite the couch, he smiled again. “Check it out, there's even another room..! Bonuuus~..!” Having only one room in his old place, this was almost exciting.

Immediately he headed over to look at what was in the other room. “Oh, bonus-bonus..! It's a kitchen! Hey, sweet, I've never had one before. You know how to use one?” He leaned back out to pass his inquisitive look to the other.

Cavendish remained in the same spot, hardly impressed with the arrangement. There were quite a few things missing that he would deem necessary for comfortable living. Then Dakota's question caught his attention. His brow quirked. “You don't cook..?” He couldn't say he was surprised, but...

Dakota shrugged. “All I had at my old place was a hotplate. Never got to learn. But hey, if you can, then bonus-bonus-bonus..! Although if not, I am perfectly fine maintaining my diet of mostly snacks and grease-based foods.”

“I can cook...” Cavendish muttered firmly, hinting strongly that he was going to be against such a diet at all costs. Well, it wasn't like he had anything against the odd greasy snack, but it was decidedly unhealthy to eat all the time. Perhaps if he forced Dakota to eat better he would have more energy to be less lazy.

“Great! Teach me to make pancakes tomorrow, I would _love_ to have pancakes whenever I want 'em.” On the plus side, Dakota seemed more than willing to learn.

“We don't have any groceries...” Cavendish pointed out, “But more pressing, don't you notice anything missing?” He brandished a hand at the minimalistic room he was standing in.

Dakota looked. “So we'll go shopping. Anyway, I don't get it, what are we looking at?”

Cavendish's fingers clawed in disbelief. “Where's the bathroom?!” he burst, “Where's the _bed_ room? How are we supposed to function with two thirds of our basic needs simply absent??” How could Dakota not notice this?

“Oh. That.” Dakota did not sound terribly bothered. “Well bathroom's down the hall. I know it's a pain, but that's how it was where I came from, so y'know. Same old, same old.” He thumbed in the direction of the toilet they'd passed on the way to their room.

Cavendish blinked. He hadn't noticed that at all. Keen eye, Dakota must have had. That and/or experience with places like this.

“As for a place to sleep, well, it might not be perfect either but it's right there.” He pointed at the couch.

Another blink. “Beg pardon? How are we--”

Walking over to said couch, Dakota cut Cavendish off to explain, “It's a couch bed. Look see, you can tell by this little latch here.” He tossed the cushions off and unlatched the snap holding the interior of the couch down. It sprung up and out of the frame enough to be grabbed, and Dakota took hold of it to tug out the rest of the way with a grunt. In a mere moment, a bare bed was blocking most of the walkway. “Yeah I've been living on a lotta these. You get used to 'em. A real bed still woulda been nice, but hey. Kitchen~..!” He took his victories where he could get them.

Cavendish stared at the less-than-comfortable-looking couch bed. Deary, he knew they existed of course, but he hadn't even considered..! Dakota really was experienced with living in poor conditions. Cavendish almost felt sorry for him. Perhaps part of his attitude came from making the most of his situations.

Dakota moved to plop his bag down and start unpacking it. “We can get a twin when we shop if you want, though, don't worry about it. We can find a place for one. I'll be good with the couch.” Obviously they were going to need to share tonight, but Cavendish sounded like he really wanted a real bed. That made sense. He was probably used to real beds. They'd only have room for one at most, though.

“Oh. Um...” Dakota was already thinking of Cavendish's needs. Cavendish hadn't expected that. “Thank you. Worry not, however, I am quite adept at 'roughing it' and 'making due'.” The older man bucked up and felt the need to assert that he wasn't some prissy whiner that needed to be pampered. He came over to place his bag on the right side of the floor by the couch bed. “Rest assured, I can handle a spot of inconvenience!”

If Dakota could handle living arrangements like this, then for Cavendish it would be a piece of cake! He would adapt. Now, however, as he opened his bag, he faltered. Most things could stay in there, though he _had_ expected at least a wardrobe of sorts, but others he'd had hopes of displaying. Most notably he'd wanted a safe place to hide his rather large teddy. Not only Dakota, this was something he would have chosen to hide from anyone. Now what was he supposed to do with it?

Dakota had peeked over, happy to see Cavendish embrace his situation and also curious what a guy like him might choose to travel with. Time agents had to pack light, so it was sure to really say something about him. "You have a teddy bear?" He put his hands over the bed to lean in closer, smile firmly in place.

Cavendish blanched. Good lord that was fast. Dakota was nosy! "Yes, well..." Flustered, the ginger-haired gentleman attempted to lean to block the bear from view, sure Dakota was going to have something immature and mocking to say about it.

"Oh my god, that is so adorable!!" Dakota sprang onto the mattress so he could lean right over and take it. He snatched the bear quite rudely, _needing_ a better look. Holding it at arm's length, he then gushed and squeezed it close, babbling, “Oh, who's a big adorable fluffy man? Is it you? I think it's youuuu~..!” Turning to Cavendish he grinned eagerly. "Does he have a name? Tell me he has a name~!"

"Oh, well, um..." This was unexpected, to say the least. Dakota certainly was an accepting fellow... "Dennis." How did Cavendish continue to end up revealing things about himself to Dakota? He was supposed to be keeping himself closed, making sure they didn't get along so he could keep his options open! And yet he'd already shared an intimate detail like this.

"Awww..." Dakota didn't sound patronizing there, rather sincerely endeared. It was enough to catch Cavendish's attention again. Dakota hugged the bear harder, eliciting from it a squeak sound that made him open his eyes. Holding the bear at arm's length again, he grinned even wider. "Oh, and it _squeaks_? That does it; this...is officially the best bear ever. Who's the best bear? Who? Is? The? Best? Bear?" Cheerfully he squeaked the soft toy some more, snuggling it as if it were his own. Then realizing what he was doing, he turned back to Cavendish and offered his bear back to him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want a snuggle right now? Break him in to the new place, what have you?"

Taken off-guard by how Dakota had once again so easily accepted this traditionally embarrassing information, by how he'd engaged in it himself, and by the display of self-aware politeness, Cavendish found himself disarmed by the shorter man. "That's...quite alright," he forgave, reaching to take Dennis back. The taller gave him one quick squeeze, happy no harm had come to the toy.

"Seriously, Cav, you are too cute. It's like half of you is still a little kid inside; it's great. I just know we're gonna get along swell." More honestly than he knew how to say, Dakota truly liked this man. He could sense that he was going to like him even more. He wanted to hurry and learn everything about him. Was this a sign? A sign that he'd really found the partner meant for him? He could only hope.

A grunt. "It's Cavendish." The older man still wasn't sold on the concept, but he supposed he might have been a bit too hard in his assumptions of the other. He wasn't...hating the man. And he was trying very hard to refuse the light dusting of pink over his cheeks as he pointedly turned to place Dennis on the couch with care. He still wanted out of here, he told himself, he still wanted a different assignment, and a different partner.

Dakota rolled his eyes. Ok, so Cavendish's other half was still all stuffy and proper. That was fine. It would surely be a little annoying from time to time, but they'd work on it. In a way that proper stuff was even nice on Cavendish. Made him sound smart. He probably was smart. Smart people were always quirky.

…

The duo's first night together as roommates came shortly enough after they'd finished unpacking their meager belongings and arranging the room with what little feng shui was possible. They'd agreed on some basic roommate rules, all mostly common sense, along with some idle chit-chat headed by Dakota. He liked keeping the mood free and light.

Cavendish was notably more receptive to conversation in this private setting, not to mention childish in a very endearing way, and as it turned out, despite sounding so smart he really seemed to mis-aim his focus and miss the obvious logical reasoning when he started scolding. He'd done this over several rule pitches, and it only made Dakota smile and snort, which had irritated Cavendish and only made him scold harder. Dakota was quickly realizing that being stuffy might not be all bad, as it made for a very open invitation to tease.

Luckily Cav – Dakota still chose to abbreviate that mouthful of a name to himself - appeared to be all bluster and pout; he took chides well in the end despite his protests. After complaining he merely brushed them off and carried on. At most he'd turned huffy for five minutes and claimed he wouldn't talk to the other until he was ready to be serious. All it had taken was a quick apology and Cav had caved into finishing their work.

After these steps, it was already late and the pair was feeling tired after a day of moving house, so it was time to turn in. Before Cavendish had gotten a chance to try and draw up some kind of bathroom chart or craft a modesty curtain, Dakota had already thrown off his outer layer of clothing and whipped on a bathrobe. He liked clothes that were swapped easily. Then he simply pointed to the bed and said Cav could make it while he went to the bathroom first. That would also give the older man time to change and whatnot.

Mildly taken aback by Dakota's lack of modesty, Cavendish still actually found the suggestion reasonable. But the first thing out of his mouth was still another correction regarding his name. Another thing Dakota was fast to be was familiar, he'd noticed. The Brit's name wasn't _that_ long – the same number of syllables as the other's in fact. It wouldn't kill Dakota to be professional and address his coworker the way he would like to be addressed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep, surprisingly, had come rather easy for the two. It was waking up next to each other that brought difficulty.

Cavendish had woken and rolled over with a yawn only to find Dakota propped up on his elbow, still in his undergarments, facing him and wearing the most evil of knowing smirks. Had he been _waiting_ for Cavendish to wake up? “Morning. So...who's Hildegard?”

Cavendish's eyes widened. What?? How-??

“You talk in your sleep~...” Dakota pressed, clearly enjoying this newest tidbit of information about the other. “Man, I _really_ wanted to talk back and see what you'd do, but even without it...” He flopped back and laughed merrily, even kicking some. He didn't know the other well enough to know if he could safely push buttons like that yet, and it _was_ about to be their first day together and all, so Dakota didn't want to be _that_ mean, but he seriously couldn't help being entertained by each and every surprise Cav was quickly piling on him.

Cavendish was mortified. Blushing profusely, he sat up sharply, clinging his blanket to him. He'd...had no idea he talked in his sleep! But he had no choice but to believe it since Dakota already knew the name of one particular reoccurring fantasy. Even worse, it was a particular fantasy that always dumped him when she came about. Never even gave him a chance. Although in some ways Cavendish supposed Dakota hearing about that was better than... _other_ outcomes for a dream. He hoped Dakota hadn't been wishing to try and elicit _that_ sort of talk out of him. He would have murdered the man. A near stranger implying he would've..! “H-How much did you hear..?” was the inevitable question stumbling its way out of Cavendish's mouth.

“Enough.” Dakota sat up too and continued to grin at the other, completely endeared by his sheepish flustering. “What's the matter, Cav, you don't have any luck with the ladies?” Clumsy, liked take-out but also cooked, determined, tough, kiddy, owned a teddy bear, came with built-in free entertainment...best. Partner. _Ever._ “What about fellas? You got any dream dates that turn out better with them?”

With a disgruntled sound and a sourpuss, Cavendish faced away, hunching. “I refuse to answer that.” It wasn't because of the idea of dating another man. In 2175, bisexuality was actually the dominant preference thanks to alternative movements and the evolution of social acceptance. No, this was simply about the embarrassment over privacy.

Leaning over to try and cheer the other up, Dakota tapped the back of Cav's shoulder with the back of his hand. “Awww, hey, if it's any consolation, me neither. My last date was like...three years ago, and he was _not_ pretty, let me tell you. Doctored profile shots, you know how it goes...not like I wasn't tellin' a few fibs, but still!”

“Hmyezz...” Cavendish responded vaguely with a roll of his eyes Dakota couldn't see. He supposed knowing Dakota was a loser when it came to dating made him feel a _little_ better. Served Dakota right for fibbing anyway. At least if Cavendish was going to embellish, he only embellished the _truth_...mostly. His dreams had likely actually revealed for him just what his tactics were.

Dakota had already gotten up and thrown on his bathrobe, grabbing a change of clothes and a toiletry bag while he was at it. “Ok, handsome, so same deal as last night? Don't worry if you can't get the mattress back in, I'll show ya how it works when you're changed. And don't forget, you're showin' me how to make pancakes~..!”

With that he was gone, leaving Cavendish to blink and process what had happened in the mere handful of minutes since he'd woken up. Dakota certainly seemed to move at an accelerated pace emotionally. 'Breezy', one might describe the attitude as. He'd mocked Cavendish, but it was nowhere near as harsh as their peers. Dare Cavendish say, he'd been...friendly? Hm. Maybe Dakota wasn't going to be the _worst_ partner. He hardly seemed as obnoxious as all the stories had been making him out to be.

...

Dakota was the worst partner. He was _extremely_ obnoxious.

The shorter man kept yawning quite openly as the pair had gone out to get breakfast burritos before heading to a shopping complex to collect supplies. Cavendish kept nagging him about not calling him 'Cav' and not yawning with food in his mouth – Disgusting! - but Dakota just excused the latter issue by saying he hadn't gotten his full sleep last night. He'd been too busy listening to Cav FM. And now that he'd gotten his kicks his usual lethargy was sneaking back up on him. Usually he liked to sleep late.

Hearing himself likened to a radio station using that blasted abbreviation again got a twitch out of Cavendish and short sound that made Dakota smile. “Do _not_ call me that!”

The pair were in their time car, currently, the only vehicle they had, burritos in hand and on the way to their shopping. The car was quite the clunker, with drab paint and dents, but Dakota was sure everyone else had something just as lousy. They were only government cars, after all.

The shorter man behind the wheel sighed, _not_ sure why Cavendish had to be so hung up on the name thing. “Alright look. It's really not a big deal. If you want you can even call me 'Kota' or 'Dako'...or just 'Da'. How about 'Da'? First syllable. Matches yours.”

Cavendish narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I am not calling you 'Da'...”

Dakota shrugged now that he was hearing it. “Eh, you're right. Maybe sounds a little too Russian. Which would be especially weird because we're...clearly not Russian. Well, whatever. Invitation's there. If you can't think of anything, don't complain.”

Cavendish couldn't help a palm smacking his forehead. Simpleton! “It's not a matter of _sound,_ it is a matter of respect..!”

“Ok, so _respect_ that your name is a mouthful and that I need to shorten it. I mean c'mon, how often am I gonna say _my_ name by comparison? Also you've got way more letters.”

“D'yyyuuuuhhh..!” The ginger-haired man looked to the heavens in aggravation before putting his head in his hands. A burrito stain smeared his forehead.

Recognizing he'd overstepped, Dakota bumped the other's elbow in an effort to make peace. “Aww, c'mon, relax. I'm just tryin' to be friendly. Besides, I really like how it rolls off the tongue. Caaaav~...doesn't that sound cool?”

Looking up and blinking, the other stared at the driver. “Really..?” Was that 'cool'..? Cavendish did like the idea of being 'cool' for once in his life. Status was not quite the same thing after all. And something about Dakota's gravelly voice drawling it out like that did sound rather smooth. Like a jazz musician. Finger to his chin in contemplation, the Englishman found himself bending mentally. With his empty hand he wiped off the burrito sauce from his forehead and licked his thumb.

Dakota glanced over from the road for a second, smiling. He knew it. Cav was totally easy to figure out. “Yeah, sure,” he confirmed to please the man. If it got him off his back he'd tell Cav he was an all-out rock star. It was way easier than fighting.

“Hm.” Having another bite of burrito, Cavendish stared vaguely out the windshield, speculating on his coolness levels with a sparkle in his eyes. After a few seconds he came back to Earth and turned to Dakota with his free hand in a fist. “Alright, I'll allow it.”

“Thaaank you,” Dakota nodded, “Best idea you've ever had.”

A quirked brow. “But we've only known each other for four days...”

“Exactly.”

Cavendish...didn't have a response.

Then Dakota yawned again and set him off. “Will you at _least_ stop doing _that_? I do not need to witness the various stages of your breakfast's mastication!”

Dakota snorted derisively this time. “Oh yeah? Well let me ask _you_ : what're you doin' starin' at my mouth anyway? I'm driving, so I'm not even lookin' at you.”

“It _draws_ attention when you _yawn_ so loudly,” Cavendish retorted dryly, “Your mouth is certainly hard to miss. Although you do still seem to manage based on your crumb collection.”

It was Dakota's turn to have annoyance grace his features. “At least I can keep my food off my _forehead._ Yeah, I think you missed a spot.” He took another glance to give Cavendish a pointed look. “You don't seem to mind feeding your upper lip either – looks like a failed mustache - so you're not one to tell _me_ how to eat. Alright? I do plenty enough eating to know I'm a little messy. You don't gotta ride me about it, _Mom_.”

Cavendish had looked up and touched his forehead, followed by a touch to his lip as he was lashed out at. Embarrassed, he supposed Dakota actually...had a point. Moreso, the man had actually just gotten angry with him..! Apparently he did have limits. “Ehm...yes, well...” He felt a bit bad for nagging, and shamed for being scolded.

Again finding it easier to compromise than to fight, Dakota just pointed to the passenger side window with the hand not on the wheel. “How 'bout you just look out the window, ok? Solves all yer problems.” Hn. Cavendish had backed down pretty hard after some proper backlash. Maybe he didn't realize how nit-picky he was being, or maybe he thought Dakota's happy attitude had been apathy rather than friendliness. Well, Dakota was more than happy to let the other know he still had thoughts and feelings. He wasn't an idiot.

Meekly, Cavendish glanced out said window before turning to it and having another bite. Dakota _was_ self-aware then. Perhaps it really wasn't him that had needed the scolding.

...

“Um...Dakota, about--”

“Hey, look, uh...”

The two had gotten out of their car in the shopping center parking lot, now standing in front of the hood. The tension of the drive had been eating at the both of them even after they'd finished eating their breakfast.

They each looked at each other, blinking as they realized they'd been having the same thoughts.

“Water under the bridge..?” Cavendish supposed he ought to at least _try_ and be friendly in return. Dakota was still a human being, and he'd done nothing but subvert Cavendish's expectations so far. It wasn't fair to treat him based on reputation if he himself didn't wish to be, and if no one was going to bother looking at his transfer request, then he might as well do what he'd claimed he could and make due.

Dakota looked at the sheepish hand offered to him, letting a fresh smile form. So Cavendish _was_ self-aware. Maybe now that he'd recognized Dakota's intentions he'd stop being such a stiff. In response he simply grabbed the offered hand and shook it twice. “Ok, so let's go get us some groceries..!”

The two were already arguing again not two minutes after gathering a hover trolley, but it was far less moody than the trip here had been. This time they were arguing about their budget and what to get.

The store they were in was a large-scale wholesale building, which they'd agreed would save them some money, but it also sold items they might need besides food. Food was mostly what they were arguing about, though.

Dakota mainly wanted to stock up on things like nuts and snack chips and pudding. Chemical and salt-filled things that would last for ages and were super cheap so they could buy tons of it – and that were super _unhealthy_ as Cavendish pointed out. He reminded Dakota that they had a kitchen, and that Dakota had even reminded _him_ that morning that he was supposedly excited to use it.

This Dakota had to relent to. He was too used to living like a graduate student. Plus it was actually kind of nice to hear someone call him on his overindulgent choices, not that he was going around announcing it. Someone caring about his health was just a pleasant change of pace. Then when Cavendish pointed out that they had more room in the budget than what Dakota was scrimping for, the shorter man took his turn to play the reminder.

“Woah, woah, don't forget, we gotta get _you_ a bed, too, so we don't actually have as much for food as all that.”

Cavendish's brow went up, realizing that Dakota was entirely correct in echoing the Englishman's own concerns from the day prior. Looking at the numbers he'd been crunching in the personal miniature notebook he carried in his breast pocket, Cavendish's brow now furrowed.

A bed would actually set them back quite a ways...furniture was always expensive. Would he really be alright in spending on one so selfishly? Dakota had already expressed that he would be fine with the couch, but they both knew it wasn't as good as a proper bed. Cavendish would feel awful knowing that he was sleeping soundly while Dakota put up with a lumpy ill-fitted mattress. And with the amount of room they had, it would likely have to be something that folded anyway...or a cot. Which was actually _worse_ than the couch.

“You know...it's really not all that pressing,” he ventured, “I said I could handle inconvenience, and by Jove, handle it I shall!”

Dakota tilted his head. “Eh? You don't want a bed anymore? You sure..?” Sharing was no big deal, but it was still weird hearing the other suddenly decide not to have one. Then again, he'd never explicitly confirmed the plan.

“Well, it's not like getting one would save me from you overhearing my dreams anyway...” sighed the taller man, not over the fact that even he hadn't known he was a somniloquist. In that tiny space, he'd never be safe. “Really, you've already humiliated me, so I can't see it getting any worse...” Continuing to share shouldn't be that awful. The worst had already passed.

A shrug came from Dakota. “It really wasn't that bad. I think you're overreacting.” So the guy talked in his sleep. So what? It was better than snoring. “I already told you _my_ embarrassing track record anyway, so we're even. But hey, you wanna keep the couch, we'll keep the couch. You're skinny, you don't take up much room.” It didn't matter to him.

Inhaling and staring intently at nothing to prevent himself from snarking, Cavendish tented his fingers and then looked to Dakota to explained his stance clearly. “I am fine with the couch. Perhaps we can rethink our arrangement once we've saved some money, but for now there are more important things on which we should be spending.”

“Cool,” Dakota accepted, indifference then turning to excitement. “Hey, that means we can buy ice cream! Or a stereo. Or both. Ice cream partaaayy..!” He began dancing to imaginary music that he was only able to share through vague instrument imitations.

“Please stop that.” Cavendish was made immediately uncomfortable by this public display of utter silliness.

Dakota hadn't stopped looking at Cavendish while he was dancing, hoping he would've joined in. “Ugh, you need to lighten up, man. I'm just messin' around. Uhn~, I'm Lindaaana and I wanna have fuuun~...” Some lyrics were added into his music. Now that he'd started, he was too into it to stop.

Scoffing, Cavendish grabbed the handle of their hover trolley and strode away at a brisk pace, determined to disassociate himself with the dancing fool.

Seeing Cav run away with the groceries, Dakota had no choice but to stop and trot after. “What? Hey, heyyy..! That's a classic tune..! Alright, I'll stop. Mostly.” His arms and shoulders continued shuffling as he caught up to his partner's side. Cavendish rolled his eyes.

A moment of silence passed between them as they walked.

“So who's this 'Jove' you Brits love talking about, anyway?”

Cavendish hemmed. “Oh, I don't know, I'm sure someone just made it up.”

The atmosphere was decidedly an amicable one.

...

The two had not bought a stereo, but they had bought ice cream, and it sat opened on the counter of the time agents' tiny kitchen's tiny counter, two spoons sticking out of it and one side decidedly more gauged than the other. Luckily they could both agree on Rocky Road.

They could not, however, seem to prevent Dakota from destroying their new cookware.

“Whoops...” Dakota noted as he attempted to flip a pancake with his spatula, “Looks like I've got another pile-a burnt mush..!”

This kept happening. The pancakes would be all soft and gooey on top, but the bottoms would be black and they'd stick to the pan.

On the other half of the stove, Cavendish flipped his perfectly-rounded flapjack over at his decidedly neater cooking station. He glanced over at his struggling student. “Did you remember to butter the pan..?” It was said as an airy breath, like he'd been asking similar questions for the better part of an hour. Because he had.

Dakota stared blankly into space. “No. No I did not,” he pieced together that this was likely the problem. Looking at the taller man, he noted, “And you'd think I'd remember, cuz it's _butter_ milk batter. Butter batter...hah.”

The unimpressed expression passed to him did not waver. “Are you going to let it fossilize in there..?”

Dakota glanced back at the pan and figured, yeah, he'd better get his mess out of there before it fused permanently or something. “Oh, like you're one to talk, fossil boy. Yeah, don't think I don't see those grey hairs in there,” he quipped, chiseling at the pan with his spatula before holding said pan vertically and squinting at it. “Huh.” That was...pretty stuck in there. Taking the next obvious logical step, he reached for a knife.

Cavendish stared affronted, hands on hips. “Just how old do you think I _am_?” he shot back, “I'm going grey prematurely, I'll have you know..!” And even if he wasn't – seeing Dakota begin picking at his ruined pancake with a knife, Cavendish gasped and lunged to prevent him from doing so. “Nooo, you imbecile, you'll destroy the pan..!”

In his haste to halt Dakota's wrist, Cavendish had twisted his body too quickly. He felt his ankle pivot off his center of gravity too late to do anything about it, and his sleek-soled dress shoe slid out from under him.

He ended up head-butting Dakota in the stomach, who let out a sharp 'oof'. His wrist was yanked one way and his other arm flailed trying to find some sort of balance. As a result the frying pan flew into the air and the handle lodged itself deeply into the plaster ceiling. More conscious of the knife, Dakota panicked, not wanting to stab Cavendish and yanked out of the other man's grip to fling that too. It ended up in the wall. The motion only put Dakota further off-balance and ensured his collapse.

Cavendish hit the handle of his own pan as he fell past, launching that as well as shoving the pan into the batter bowl. A chain reaction of flips sent the batter splattering itself across the nigh-closet-sized room and the remaining ingredients to coat the tiny kitchen in floury, sugary, eggy mess. The salt bag ended up tipping over onto the stove, where it promptly caught fire.

Meanwhile, on the floor, the two aspiring cooks groaned in twin dazes, hardly even knowing what happened. They each rubbed their head before glancing around the kitchen. Cavendish hoisted himself off of Dakota. At least his fall wasn't as hard as it could've been.

“Y'know, ya coulda just said 'stop'...” Dakota pointed out. “You ok? Need a hip replacement?”

Inspecting for injury, Cavendish sighed, “Yes, yes...well, I appear to be no worse for wear.” The words catching up to him, he burst, “Oi..! I told you I am _not_ that old..! I've never broken a bone in my body..!”

“Oh shush, I'm just busting your chops. I'm fine too by the way. So where's the fire extinguisher?”

A sprinkler activated in the ceiling, effectively dousing the kitchen and making everything stickier. This was not going to be fun to clean up.

“Oh...there it is.”

The two stood, and Cavendish's eyes spied at the spill on the stove. “Oh dear...was that the salt soaking in open flame..?” How would they ever get it all out of the burner cracks?

Dakota looked, holding up his wet arms as he felt less than fresh about all the different soggy goos he was covered in. “Can't we just use some of this water and dissolve it out? Wait...wasn't there something dangerous about hot salt..?” He swore he'd heard something like that once while surfing internet videos.

A hissing sound reached the pair's ears and both their eyes widened at the burner. They realized what was about to happen, but barely had the chance to scream and grab onto each other, recoiling in fear before--

_BOOM!!_

The watery salt explosion triggered a secondary gas explosion in the stove, and within a single second the entire kitchen was covered in char, along with Cavendish and Dakota who were now spread-eagle against the fridge and pantry respectively. Dakota was upside down. He coughed up a cloud of black dust as he slid back to the floor.

“I think...we destroyed more than the pan...”

From above, the pancake that had been stuck to said pan finally freed itself, and managed to land directly on Cavendish's head. He grunted.

“Correction,” Dakota stated, “The pan is the only thing we _saved_...” He had a lovely view of it from down here.

...

“ _What??_ ” A furious pudgy man with tightly curled black hair was shoving his face into the time phone screen, “You two are telling me you haven't even spent twenty-four hours together, and you've _blown up_ your apartment?! How is that even possible?!”

One very tense Cavendish and one Dakota twisting his pinky to get soot out of his ear stood on the other end of the call. Behind them, the wreckage of the kitchen was quite visibly smoking.

Cavendish tittered nervously. “Freak...accident..?” he ventured was the safest guess.

Dakota chipped in as if making excuses to authority was a regular pastime for him. Because it was. “Yeah, I think you set us up with a place that has lousy gas,” he spun, “Someone shoulda checked that before we got here. It's a wonder it didn't blow before.”

Mr. Block scowled harder, like hearing bologna from Dakota was something he often had to sit through, even already. Because he did. Man got into trouble fast. “I knew you two were gonna be troublemakers together,” he groused, “Crumpeteer, I knew _you_ were going to be just as bad a disappointment as _him_ , but at the very least I'd hoped you'd wait until you got an assignment first! This is a new record! _Which was previously held by Tacoma here!_ ”

Dakota smiled and Cavendish just sagged under the biting remarks. “Yeah, new record for destruction too,” the shorter man shrugged, “But whaddya gonna do? So're ya sendin' someone to fix the stove?”

Mr. Block snarled. “Legally, I'm required to. But you bet your bippy that I'm not even going to _give_ you an assignment now until I find one degrading enough to punish you for your _baffling_ level of incompetence!! And Crumpets, I'm officially forbidding you from _ever_ transferring! Enjoy your life together, you failures!” With another sharp scowl, he punched the end call button.

“Okaaaaay...thaaaaanks...” Dakota called apathetically, sarcastically at the black screen.

He turned his head towards Cavendish, who looked like he was suffering some sort of internal meltdown.

“Cav..?”

“Cooking lessons are _over_.” The taller man hugged himself and turned to walk to the couch, where he sat heavily and continued to hold his own arms.

“Yeah, that's fair,” Dakota granted, tracking the man with his head. Sensing serious tension, he came over to join the other in sitting. “Hey, don't listen to _him_ , he's just...grouchy. All the time, I assume. So we had a bad first day. No biggie. We'll go clean up and then see what we can scrape outta the fridge for lunch, eh?” If Mr. Block wanted to isolate them from everyone else in the department by sticking him with Cavendish forever, it was no skin off his nose. He hoped the taller man wasn't moping because of that part. Dakota thought they were getting along, especially after he'd noticed the other start being less judgey and talk to him without needing to be tricked.

Cavendish looked up and clawed his hands. “Ugh, don't you _get it??_ ” he burst, “This is most definitely a 'biggie'! This is more than just a 'bad day'! I've never had anything happen like this in my entire _life!_ ”

One of Dakota's eyebrows quirked. “Wait, what..? What hasn't happened? Kitchen explosion? Well yeah, I mean...that's never happened to me either.”

“I've never been the loser at my job..!” Cavendish corrected curtly, “I want to do great things here..! And no offense to you, but your reputation is not exactly...nyuhh, reputable. I may have made my assumptions, but I decided to look past them because operating under them wouldn't be fair. Only look where it's gotten me! I've hit rock bottom straight away, _impressively_ hard, without even trying! Everything he said is right, you know...I am a disappointment. To them. Probably to you. But mostly to myself.” He wanted to be able to blame Dakota for dragging him down, but he simply couldn't shift the accusation so easily. Cavendish knew he'd been the one to initiate the accident. Turning back on his decision to treat Dakota fairly would only be hypocritical and childish. The real thing Cavendish was upset about was his failure. He felt lost being on the bottom rung, especially after falling here so quickly. That was the only thing he could justify pouting about.

Dakota processed what he was being told. Cavendish really was a goody-goody with big dreams, huh? 'Never been a loser at work'? The other man wished he could be as lucky. He was also surprised that he wasn't being saddled as the cause of Cavendish's downfall. Everyone liked to blame him. The surprise a pleasant one, and it was enough to make Dakota carry forward with comforting the man. “Well first off...instead of hugging yourself...here. This might work better.” Dakota stood and leaned to dig behind the arm of Cavendish's side of the couch. He pulled out Dennis and offered him to the older man. “Second, well...it's been a bumpy day. I'll give ya that.”

Cavendish took his turn looking in silence as he was offered his bear. Just as silently, he took it, finding it hard to believe Dakota was this aware of his needs already. A squeeze from Dennis was perfect right now. “Thank you...” he mumbled, feeling slightly better as he crushed his arms around the large plush toy.

“No prob.” Hesitating for a moment, the wavy-haired man rubbed the back of his neck, considering if he should go further. He hadn't known Cavendish for long, but he knew he liked the guy, and seeing a full grown man pout into a teddy bear pulled at Dakota's heartstrings. “Ehh, and for what it's worth, you haven't disappointed me in the slightest.” He chose to be nice.

“Hmm?” This got Cavendish to look at the other standing in front of him. “Really..? Not even for pre-judging you or, well, knocking you over and starting all _that.._?” He glanced at the smoldering ruins of the kitchen.

With only a brief glance to the kitchen, Dakota shrugged. “Not really. It's not like you're the first person to want out on me. I know I'm the 'company plague' or whatever wherever I go, so. Y'know.” Seeing Cavendish look guilty over his initial treatment, Dakota cleared his throat. “Still, I thought we've been getting along great. I still think you're fun. Even after we blew up...that was kinda fun too. Definitely shakes things up. Literally.” It wasn't pleasant to go through, no, but it was the kind of thing you could laugh about later. At least in his eyes.

“Oh right. You thought I was...fun...” Cavendish remembered that being mentioned over lunch. But really? That was the big wowing trait that had drawn the other to him? It was strange too to still be called fun after he'd been such a pill. “Well, I'm...flattered you can still think highly of me.” At the very least there was one person at the agency who didn't hate him straight away in spite of all the screwing up he'd been doing.

Another shrug from the smaller man. “Well yeah, I mean look at your cosplay shtick. What part of that getup doesn't scream 'interesting kook'?” He chuckled slightly. “And I guess so long as you don't quit on me _now_ , we'll call it even.” Staying his partner was about the best thing Cavendish could do if he was serious about giving Dakota a chance. Looking for new partners was hard. And so was a new job. At least if they were together they would have security.

“Ha.” Sitting up a bit straighter the Brit declared, “Don't worry, I'm no quitter. Even if you _were_ angry and were the one that wanted to ditch _me_ , I would still have my goal. It's been my dream to become a great time agent and do good for the world...I would just have to start over.” He hemmed and sagged back into Dennis. “I suppose you could say I'm just feeling a bit...discouraged about my grand arrival. And pouty.”

Dakota tilted his head and smiled a bit appreciatively. Anyone else would have probably been out the door as soon as it was offered there would be no strings attached. It allowed him to smile, and actually made him feel like supporting the other man's determination if he was going to stick around. "Well we may be outcasts, but that just means we've got potential, right?” He nodded when he saw Cavendish's eyes spark with a bit of inspiration. “It just means when we do somethin' right, that'll _really_ show 'em. And hey, I've got _tons_ of experience bein' on the bottom around here. I can totally show you how its done. For instance, put down that bear, and who's up for Float Cone?" He raised his own hand eagerly, offering the other to the sulky man.

Ice cream...ice cream sounded good about now, too. They hadn't gotten to finish theirs, after all. Cavendish gave Dennis one last quick squeeze before putting him aside. Then he raised one of his own hands while taking the one Dakota offered and allowing the other to yank him up.

“Great! You're buying.”

Cavendish blinked, and then couldn't help an unimpressed look to the man in sunglasses.

“Hey, I'm joking..! I was joking last time, wasn't I?” He wouldn't force his partner to really pay for him...yet. Mooching wasn't for fresh friends.

A slight shade of amusement appeared under Cavendish's glower, one side of his lips lifting ever so slightly as he granted Dakota the fact that his clowning was appreciated.

...

It was a bit nervous for Cavendish, waiting to hear what his first assignment was going to be. For the most part, however, he managed to keep it in the back of his mind, for in the week it took to hear from Mr. Block, Cavendish had been getting to know and learning to adjust to life with Dakota.

Dakota did not seem to care when he was next going to hear from Mr. Block, so made it very easy to not think about. Anytime Cavendish started worrying about it the other was quick to assure him it was nothing to get antsy over if they didn't hear from him for a few days. Sometimes it could take several weeks to get work. Plus, Dakota was full of ideas about what to fill time with otherwise.

A lot of it was food-based. Cavendish was quick to notice that Dakota was quite enamored with food. No wonder the idea of learning to cook properly appealed. However, there were other things. They did some window shopping since they'd blown up most of their budget already, and planned for some future purchases. They explored town and shared some of their favorite spots with one another, including the aquarium and a retro arcade. For their time period, that meant nothing was in VR, which was fascinating. They discussed interests. They visited a dog park despite owning no dog, just to play with other peoples'.

Dakota was honestly impressed at how open Cav could be when he was just being him. He was still snippy and huffy of course, but he never opposed to trying new things even if they were traditionally “beneath” stuffy guys like him, and he proved to actually be _silly_ if given the right circumstance. Most notably when they visited the arcade and the dog park. Cavendish had gotten quite into those old-timey games and unexpectedly been the one who hadn't wanted to leave, demanding just one more rematch because he was _sure_ he'd get the hang of it. Dakota had gone easy on him, letting him have one victory in the end, then being highly entertained when Cavendish performed a decidedly awkward giddy victory dance. Worth it.

At the park he had first objected to going, saying it was weird to show up when you didn't own a pet, but had quickly changed his tune, easily chatting with strangers and playing fetch and baby-talking at the animals. At one point he had even wandered off on his own just to pick flowers. Flowers were rare in the city. Such a simple activity was quite a treat.

It was also very endearing. Seeing some of that inner child running free was enough to touch Dakota's soft spot. For every sleepy morning that he whomped a nagging Cav in the face with a pillow – his true colors as a late riser had made themselves evident quite immediately – Dakota would find himself unable to hold back a fond smile as he watched Cavendish enjoy himself in a way the Brit probably didn't even know was adorable. The shorter man continued to mention it, but Cavendish would only blush before brushing it off. Apparently he couldn't take such words seriously, or at least not from Dakota. Dakota couldn't blame him. He wasn't usually known for serious sentimental comments.

However, during one such unavoidable smile as he gazed at the redheaded man, watching him sniff a batch of his freshly-picked flowers and then promptly sneezing them into wilting, Dakota caught himself. He'd picked the one flower he saw near his feet and brought it over to Cav to present as a consolation. It was accepted gratefully, though also bashfully over ruining the rest. That was when the shorter man recognized a twinge in his chest and instantly realized that he'd been growing to like Cavendish far faster than even he'd expected. Dare he say, he'd developed a bit of a crush in the last few days.

Well, that was even more unexpected. Still, nothing needed to change. It was only a crush. Dakota wasn't even sure it would stick around. It might have just been because he was excited to have a partner he could get along with. Someone who'd so thoroughly subverted his expectations. For now, he just ate those feelings down. He liked eating all of his emotions, positive or negative. Blame it on so many years of any context of being rejected. Nevertheless he appreciated Cav steering him away from some of it, because doing everything he wanted was admittedly self-destructive. With someone pointing it out, the short Italian actually began to notice how often he'd been indulging in garbage food. How much he'd been filling loneliness and apathy with grease and processed snacks.

And so, one day during this week Cavendish would come home from fetching the paper to find Dakota had taken cooking lessons onto himself. Cavendish was stunned to say the least, and despite his concerns about the inexperienced man being unsupervised, it was pointed out that _he_ hadn't been the one wrecking everything last time. Now Dakota had a cookbook and was navigating his way through making breakfast for lunch just fine.

“Fair point...” Cavendish would admit.

He felt guilty about leaving Dakota to prepare a meal on his own, but he was pushed out the door and told not to worry about it. Just sit and read his outdated vintage news relay and Dakota would bring food to his desk when it was ready.

For Cavendish, this was just the latest in a long list of surprising turns he'd discovered in Dakota's character these past few days. At first the man truly did appear lazy, self-centered and inconsiderate, but in fact he'd proven only the opposite.

He was not all that lazy. Despite enjoying a good loaf around the house, he was very outgoing and had just as much issue as Cavendish with remaining cooped up. Dakota liked _doing_ things. Also despite his sarcasm, he was actually full of blunt truths more often than not. He might not have always sounded it, but he was kind under those snarky remarks. Cavendish supposed they both could work on their tones. And considerate, well, that had been what had already thrown Cavendish off on his first day.

Dakota was incredibly sensitive to his partner's needs. It must have been an astonishing level of intuition that let him grasp what would be best for Cavendish's mood at any given time, but he always just seemed to know. If Cav was feeling peckish, Dakota just happened to toss him a bag of peanuts. If Cav was feeling tense, Dakota just happened to have a distraction. If Cav wanted to be alone, Dakota was already mysteriously absent. It was uncanny.

Of course that is to say that that awareness did not mean Dakota always chose to follow it. Rather, he did like to abuse it. One rumor about him had been right: he was an incurable jokester.

Dakota's presence was very hard to ignore to begin with, but especially when he felt like being a pest. Which was often. And the more buttons he learned to press, the more it escalated. From simple nose tickles during a nap to false emergency alarms to the age-old “I'm not technically doing what you said not to” tactic, Dakota could easily be immature, to be sure.

And yet, Cavendish couldn't dislike him. The positives far outweighed the negatives, and if nothing else there was a distinct variety to life that Dakota brought to the table. He was highly charming in a quite confounding sort of way. He was admittedly as “fun” to be around as Dakota claimed Cavendish was.

Though, Cavendish still wasn't sure what Dakota meant when he kept saying things he did were “cute” or “adorable”. How was a fully-grown man “cute” in any way? How was _Cavendish_ cute in any way? He'd prefer to be “sharp” or “ruggedly handsome”...not that his demeanor was very rugged at all. Well, he supposed the word choice was just more teasing on Dakota's part. Taking anything that man said _too_ seriously was bound to backfire. Cavendish could let it slide. They'd found their dynamic, and he was just happy with how remarkably easy it had been to settle in with one another.

“Ahhh, oh noooo! It's gonna blow!!”

Cavendish looked up from his paper with wide eyes, half-standing in alarm when he heard that shout from the kitchen, ready to act. Not again..!!

Dakota's head popped out from the doorway, grinning as he saw the reaction he'd gotten. “Gotcha~...”

He exited the kitchen now with two platters of misshapen but edible-looking pancakes. As Cavendish let out a pinch-faced grunt, exasperated for falling for it and sitting back down, Dakota went on. “I told you there was nothin' to worry about. But in all seriousness, this stuff really is going to blow...you _away_..!”

Proudly, he plopped one half of his learned labor onto Cav's desk, taking the other to his own desk opposite the man. Once seated himself he looked over with an eager beam, clearly hoping for praise.

“Myezz...well, thank you.” Cavendish acknowledged the wordplay absently, still bitter about his heightened heart rate. Nevertheless, he looked at what he was presented. It wasn't the most presentable stack of pancakes, but it was decent. For a first timer. Picking up the provided fork, the first couple were poked into. “You didn't do anything strange to them, did you?” Who knew what the man who thought cheese puffs and caramel tasted good together might think made a good addition? Or what he might think made a good prank.

“What, you think I'm gonna put hot sauce in the first meal I cook for you?” Dakota shrugged like the very idea was ludicrous. “Give me a little credit, uh? I am taking initiative and learning a skill. To, y'know, better myself. Also because it'll make you happier about my diet. So? C'mon, tell me what you thiiink...” The prompt was accompanied by a couple nods toward Cav's plate.

“Hmm...” The Englishman did see Dakota's points as fair. Well, the meal didn't _look_ unusual. Trusting the shorter man's word, Cavendish took a bite. “Mh. A little burnt, but not bad,” he shrugged lightly in response.

“Oh yeah, I'm totally puttin' that one on my book jacket,” Dakota smirked back, “Jeez, would it kill you to be encouraging? Never any praise with you.” Deterring came easy, but not accolades, it seemed.

Cavendish rolled his eyes at the remark. “I did say 'thank you',” he pointed out, “And for a first turn by yourself, I'd say 'not bad' is high praise indeed.”

“Ooo, ok, I'm writin' that one down for my Chef of Excellence acceptance speech,” Dakota only smirked harder.

Cavendish's eyes slid back to the paper still held open with one hand.

Dakota snorted at the dismissal. The pair ate in a content atmosphere until Cavendish reached his last pancake. As soon as he'd sunk his teeth in to savor it, his eyes bulged and his head shot back with a shout of revile. “D'yaahh!”

Dakota looked up in time to see the other's flung fork clink back to its plate, teeth showing as the payoff finally hit.

“What the devil--?” Cavendish stared in recoil at his dish, sputtering to get the awful sharp flavor off his tongue, but not seeing anything off about the remaining flapjack.

A merry cackle from across the room made him look up. Dakota held his belly with one hand while the other slapped his desk a couple times. “I might not have put _hot sauce_ in the first meal I made for you, but I might have slipped in a little mustarrrrd~..!” the grinning man admitted with a sing-song lilt.

Eyes still wide and brow furrowed in upset, Cavendish hunched his shoulders. No wonder Dakota had pushed him out of the kitchen so readily! “You're incorrigible!”

“Yeah, and you're adorable. Look at that fluster, _oh!_ I just wanna frame it.” Dakota held his fingers up like a director lining up that perfect shot. A successful prank, he dared say.

Cavendish fumed, hating the indignant blush rising on his cheeks. It truly _was_ too dangerous to take anything this man said with full trust. In fact, he ought to say something about that. “You realize part of being partners is _trust_ , do you not?” he huffed.

With a scoff Dakota tipped his head slightly, obviously thinking the Brit was blowing things way out of proportion. Classic Cav. “Aw, c'mon, Mr. Pouty Pouterson,” he reasoned, “Donchya think there's a bit of a difference between messin' around and when things really count? Heck, if anything, bein' able to mess around ought to bring partners _closer_. Eh? Eh? Bonding and whatnot.” Wasn't that what they'd been doing? Cav was just over-complaining like he usually did.

“Hmph.” Cavendish crossed his arms and turned away very maturely, closing the conversation.

Dakota hemmed, recognizing that he wasn't going to be acknowledged as right. “Well I'll give you one thing, you definitely don't _act_ old. By that reaction I'd peg you at about, ohhhh...five?” A fresh smirk was given when Cavendish snapped his gaze back for a glare. Ah, there was just something so rewarding about having this man's attention. “Heh. You know I got you good.”

With a relenting sigh and a roll of his eyes, Cavendish did grant, “Yes, yes you did...” Unyielding as Dakota's frivolity was, it could not be denied that he maintained a certain level of unpredictable spontaneity.

Feeling victorious, Dakota let the topic go, switching naturally to a new one. “So anyway, if you aren't expecting to be put down for a nap this afternoon, I thought we could swing by the museum for Renaissance Day, I hear there's gonna be a bouncy castle. You wanna go play in the bouncy castle?” Dakota sure did.

Cavendish passed his partner a measuring look. It seemed the joking assault was over. For now. “...yes.”


	4. Chapter 4

"Huaaahhhggh!! Cavendiiiish!! Oh my god, Cavendiiiish!"

Cavendish was _dead!!_ This couldn't be happening! They'd just started! They hadn't even finished their mission! And a meteor had squashed Cavendish flat!!

Dakota looked desperately around the open field of browning grass they were at the edge of, behind the few sparse shrubs lining the property line. There wasn't going to be anything to help him there, but Dakota looked anyway as panic had set in in a hurry. He was still screaming, clutching his head because he didn't know what else to do.

His eyes lit on the time car parked discreetly only a few feet behind him in the shrubs.

In his panic, Dakota didn't even think. He scrambled forward, stumbling almost over onto his hands as he blundered towards it, but not stopping.

How is he actually dead?! He's never going to save the world now! He can't save anything now! Mr. Block is going to be furious! Who dies on their first mission?! And I had such a shot with this one! I'll never get to learn anything else about him! He'll never laugh at me again! Did I tease him too much? I never even got to tell him about my crush!

That last thought hit harder than expected. It hadn't even been a thought Dakota had expected to have, not that one could guess what might run through their head in terror, but it was that powerful twinge that pushed him to turn the keys in the time car's ignition so forcefully.

The Italian's scream finally stopped when he'd re-exited the timestream, coming out of it only a few car lengths behind the scene he'd fled. He registered with relief that it was mere moments before disaster had struck, and acted. Yelling anew, this time in warning, Dakota bolted out of the car and towards the duo who had been monitoring the field in search of the incoming meteor shower they were supposed to shield a distant barn from.

Before the two could even turn around, Dakota had grabbed his duplicate's shoulder, throwing the him from minutes ago to the side, and tackled Cavendish, reeling with the man several feet forward and crashing to the ground with him. He nearly felt his nose break from how hard it crashed into the small of Cavendish's back.

Right behind them, the massive meteor, taller than Cavendish, slammed itself into the dirt with no warning. They could both feel the tremor. The past Dakota gawped at what had happened right in front of where he'd fallen to sit, glanced at the others now collapsed on the ground and quickly saw what had happened. Still in disbelief, however, he scrambled to roll himself and hide in a nearby bush to watch. Crossing times with yourself resulted in duplicates and it was generally very frowned upon.

“What the deuce--?” Not having any idea what had smashed into him, Cavendish's eyes widened as he only had time to push himself up on his elbows before an earth-shaking rumble was felt in his gut. Forcing what he now recognized as a body on his back to let him roll over, the Brit next recognized that Dakota had shoved him and that they'd just narrowly avoided being the target of a massive space rock. His eyes widened all over again.

“Good heavens..! That was a close call! Either one of us could've been obliterated by a piece of...the heavens!”

Heart still racing, Dakota pushed himself up to look at his startled partner. The smaller man was breathing deeply out of leftover panic, not sure how to soak in the events settling around him. But Cavendish was alive. No matter what rules he'd broken in those few seconds of adrenaline, he'd managed to make that a fact, and surely saving a life had been worth it.

“Y-Yeah...either one of us,” he echoed, rubbing his nose, “That's the take-away here.”

Cavendish's head tipped slightly as he registered the other's haggard demeanor. _“You_ look like you've seen a ghost, my dear chum. Admirable reflexes, but might you need a lie-down?” This was nothing like the fearless determination the taller man had seen on the other when they'd saved those kids during their joyride.

Seeing the concern in Cavendish's eyes, Dakota decided that he didn't want to worry the man unnecessarily and willed his breaths to calm themselves. Instead he latched into a finer detail of his partner's words. “Chum...hey, we're friends now?” A slight teasing beam crossed his face. Definitely worth it.

Hardly having noticed his word choice, Cavendish blinked. “Well, I don't see why not. Unless of course you don't feel the title is warranted...” Was it too fast to consider the way they'd been getting along to be a decent friendship?

“No, it's warranted, it's warranted,” Dakota hastened to ensure, “I'm just surprised to hear you say it is all. Glad it's not just me. Um, hey. The gear in the car is probably way stronger than our puny little handhelds. If we're ready to get started here, why don't you go scope things out from there and I'll search out here, y'know, improve our odds of detecting the one we want by splitting up.”

Cavendish perked. “Oh! Say, that's not actually a bad idea..! Alright.” Eager to get back on track, the Brit got himself up and headed for the time car. Luckily, focused on his task, he didn't seem to notice the duplicate parked only a few yards away, and immediately began busying himself with the scanners built into the dashboard.

Dakota gave a sigh of relief, picking himself up and looking towards the bushes where he'd unceremoniously hurled his past self. He saw himself peeking out of those bushes, clearly having stowed away to watch the whole exchange, now giving the present Dakota a questioning expression. The bush was approached, the present model rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What was that?” the Dakota in the bushes whispered incredulously, “Did I really just do what I think I did? You? Me? Agh, this is gonna be annoying grammar-wise.”

“Yes, and yes,” his other self nodded in confirmation, then thumbing towards the giant piece of debris behind him, “That meteor just killed Cavendish a few minutes ago. I...I'm still processing it. I don't know why I did that. Jumped back. I know I probably shouldn't have. But...” Hunching in guilt because he didn't understand it himself, he glanced towards the man sitting obliviously in the car.

The first Dakota's lower eyelids pinched in empathy, sharing the glance. “He's Cavendish..?”

Looking back to his double, Dakota admitted sheepishly, “Yeah...in just that one instant, it was like... _no._ He _can't_ die. He's just getting started.” A pause. He could admit this to himself. “ _We're_ just getting started. And he just said we were _friends..!_ ” They hadn't learned everything about one another, but Dakota didn't remember the last time he'd felt a connection like this. It was full of squabbling and snide remarks, but it was also ridiculously comfortable. It felt real. Something about Cavendish compelled him, and he didn't want to end this so shortly.

The doppelganger blew a low whistle. “Wow. Yeah...whaddya gonna do?” He'd probably have done the same. He couldn't say where things were going with Cavendish, but he knew he didn't want their time together to be so brief. Of course, his time with the man had to be up now. There was no way both Dakotas could exist together. They'd get in serious trouble, and the extra would be executed.

“Whaddya gonna do...” the first Dakota agreed.

“So...are you gonna..?” Past Dakota drew his finger nervously across his neck. He would rather not be executed. Breaking a few rules, sure, but he didn't think Cavendish was quite worth _dying_ over.

“Uhhhh...” Dakota hunched awkwardly again. He kind of didn't want to kill himself either. Using some of his quick-thinking skills, he suggested an alternative. “How about...instead of that, you just take the second time car and...go find somewhere else to live?” He passed a hopeful smile to the other him. “Somewhere where Mr. Block'll never find out? I mean it's not like this'll happen again. What are the odds it even happened this time?” Offering out his small smartphone-like device, he explained, “You can even call and tell me where you end up. That way we can be _sure_ we won't cross paths again. And I can keep you in the loop, tell you what's been happening back here.”

Past Dakota knew he would have to be the one to go. It was protocol, and as defiant as he was, it also would do no good to resist in this case. The other Dakota was now the dominant timeline, and getting rid of him would mean Dakota's path would end altogether. He just...didn't _want_ to go. For him, it _would_ be an ending. Hearing he could at least see how things developed in his life, though, brought a sad smile. “I guess that sounds...better,” he relented, “We always wondered what it would be like to go full hobo. I know you, though. You'd better not forget..!” He sent himself an accusing stare in an attempt to make himself feel better.

Dakota chuckled at himself, knowing this probably wasn't the perfect solution, but at least it left them both alive. “Cross our heart and hope to _...not_ die.” He marked an X over his chest and raised his hand in oath.

Smirking appreciatively at the promise, Past Dakota then passed one more glance towards Cavendish to make sure he hadn't suspected anything, looked back to himself and gave a nod, knowing he had to get out of here fast, and made his move.

While the past version of himself darted at a crouch for the extra time vehicle, the present Dakota positioned himself in very obvious view, moving about with his device in exaggerated circles and waving his arms to make sure if Cavendish looked up, he would be the first thing of note.

Cavendish did look up, seeing motion in his peripheral vision, and quirked a brow to see Dakota wandering so stiffly and with such overly large gestures. It didn't look like he was focused on tracking the meteor they were after at all. Rather, his eyes seemed to be darting periodically for something else in the background.

A bright flash of light burst suddenly from right where Dakota was looking, and Cavendish's brow went up to sense it even behind him. He twisted to look but found nothing there. Turning back to Dakota, he opened the car door to half-step outside and ask, “I say, did you see that, Dakota? What was it?” Clearly the man had been watching. It must have been of interest.

Once more having to think fast, the Italian racked his brain for a plausible excuse. “Freak...lightning storm..?” was the one he landed on. Well, now he had to commit. “Yeah, I think the rest of the meteor shower must be getting close. Effecting the weather, you know. Kinda neat.”

Speak of the devil, a tiny rock chose then to bounce off his afro, then one off his glasses. A couple more sprinkled the roof of the time car. In the field, larger rocks began to hit. It was really going to be some kind of shower. This many meteors hardly ever made it through Earth's atmosphere. Good thing it was taking place in the middle of nowhere.

Dakota came over to the car, looking at the device in his hands for real now. It was scanning the sky and sending readings of the sizes each incoming meteor was going to be. He wished he'd been looking at it a few minutes ago, but how was he supposed to know this freak shower was going to _start_ with a giant rock landing right where the pair stood? They'd just arrived and begun scoping the territory!

Forcing himself to put that jarring moment out of mind, Dakota reminded himself that he didn't want to make Cavendish worry. It was over. Cavendish was alive. He didn't need to stress the already high-strung man by telling him he'd died within minutes of his first mission. That would likely not do anything good for his confidence.

Focusing on the task at hand, Dakota informed the man sitting back down inside the car but keeping the door open, “Ok, so according to this, there's another Big Bertha just entering the atmosphere. Looks like that's the one we wanna blow up.”

Cavendish looked at the device to compare with his own readings and nodded. He pressed a button on the dashboard, and the trunk of the car slid open to allow for what looked like a chrome megaphone on a robotic crane arm to emerge. That Cavendish attempted to aim, twiddling with the controls on the dashboard and making micro-adjustments with the steering wheel, his tongue pinched between one side of his pursed lips in concentration.

Cute, Dakota found himself thinking for the umpteenth time as he watched, the tiniest smirk touching his own lips. Yeah, he was pretty sure he'd done the right thing.

“Alright, I think that's done it,” Cavendish announce once certain he'd locked the time weapon in the trunk onto the correct coordinates, “What are _you_ gurning at?” He quirked his brow and put fists on his hips to find Dakota giving him yet another one of those listless goofy smiles. It really made the man seem like he wasn't taking anything seriously.

Catching himself yet again at slipping into one of those comfortable stares, Dakota perked at the insult and waved his hand to brush off, “Nothin'. Just waitin' for you to be done, Grandpa.”

Smirking with satisfaction this time to watch Cavendish bristle predictably, Dakota cut off any retort by leaning over and grabbing for the controls. He thought it would be cool to get to blow something up. Well, not technically blow up, but the weapon they had would essentially age their target so fast that it would disintegrate on impact. “Can I fire it? C'mon, lemme fire it, it's gonna be sweet..! I'm better at shooting games anyway, remember?”

Raising his arms and sputtering in protest, attempting to push the man leaning over his lap away, Cavendish bit back, “No, this isn't—I calibrated it, so _I_ should get to fire it..! I told you, my laser rifle was faulty..!”

The chorus of mixed squabbling continued as they each vied for the controls, seeking to try out the new toy and feel cool. Unbeknownst to them, their jostling bumped the device outside the car ever so slightly in the process.

Then in the middle of their argument, which had ended up being more about video games, the meteor in question appeared through the clouds. It was headed no doubt directly for the barn in that desolate farmer's field, and even larger than the one that had taken out the ginger-haired man now pointing at it.

“There!” he exclaimed. They had to act quickly!

Both men did, seizing the steering wheel and pushing the firing button in tandem on reflex. Outside, the device went off, shooting its beam of purpley-green time energy full blast and illuminating the space around it briefly.

Cavendish and Dakota watched silently as the glowing beam struck...the barn. Instantly, the structure they'd been meant to protect aged into a grey pile of fine powder in the _shape_ of a barn, and then was struck by the incoming meteor directly through the roof, causing the entire mess to erupt in one giant cloud of dust and rock bits easily resembling a massive explosion.

As it settled, the duo on the car let their eyes slide towards one another, recognizing the utter failure that had just occurred.

“Well...ya gotta admit, it was still cool,” Dakota noted, “What was in that barn, anyway? Couldn't have been _that_ important.”

Cavendish's face pinched with worry. This was not going to look good. Taking out his handheld time device to re-check the mission statement, he informed the man draped over his lap, “It appears this farmer was the main supplier to the company who makes Mr. Block's favorite brand of pizza rolls...without that barn, the farmer was forced to stop production and go into bankruptcy.”

Dakota grimaced now. “Tssss...yikes. Yeah, that's not going to go ever well. You do _not_ mess with a man's pizza rolls.”

Suffice to say, the pair was chewed out quite thoroughly for bungling such an easy beginner-level mission, and for making Mr. Block get his hopes up about having a nostalgic treat. They were called unbelievably incompetent, Mr. Block promised to find them something even _more_ menial to do, revoked their time weapon privileges, wondered aloud how the two had ever managed to pass the bar, and just insulted them in general before finally hanging up the time phone.

Dakota put his hands on his hips, frowning at the phone. “Y'know, I'm starting to get the sense that he doesn't like us,” he said sarcastically.

Next to him, Cavendish was pouting. How _had_ he failed his first mission? It should have been simple! He'd been so sure he'd locked onto the meteor! His eyes slid over to one speaking. “What _ever_ gave you that idea?” he hemmed back. Come to think, if Dakota hadn't suddenly insisted he wanted to fire the shot...

“Just a hunch,” Dakota rolled his eyes, “Why doesn't he just go back to when they sell his lousy pizza rolls anyway?”

Cavendish's eyes narrowed accusingly. “Not _everyone_ has blatant enough disregard for protocol to time travel willy-nilly every time they're feeling peckish.”

Knowing what Cavendish was specifically implying, Dakota turned defensive. “Heyyy, don't you go dissing Rita's! You had those burritos, you _know_ they're worth it!”

“Hmph.” Cavendish folded his arms, solidifying his earlier thought, “Regardless, I wanted to work my way up to something like fighting secret organizations. My point is, better missions like that are going to take quite some time if you don't learn to keep your hands to yourself..! This is all you and your impulsiveness' fault!”

Dakota's head went back. “Excuse me??”

Cavendish nodded curtly. “You heard me. Barging in to take the controls like that. Utterly selfish!”

Dakota's shoulders hunched. “Selfish-! How can you say that after I just saved your neck? Remember how you _almost_ got splatted? I think I deserved to push one little button.”

“You had just as much chance at being 'splatted'...” Cavendish was certain, “I did the work setting the whole thing up. Surely if you had just let me finish the job, everything would have gone accordingly!”

Dakota gritted his teeth, wanting to say he knew for certain which one of them would have been crushed, but of course he couldn't. Cavendish wouldn't remember that timeline. Dakota didn't like being blamed, either, though was sure this was the other needing to vent his disappointment in some way. “Don't take it out on me 'cause we got chewed out!” he warned, pointing at the taller man accusingly, “And I'm _not_ just gonna stand by the wayside and let you do everything. That's not what _partners_ are supposed to do!”

Seeing Cavendish blink, taken aback and clearly reconsidering his lashing out, Dakota also could admit there might be _some_ truth to the words he'd said.

Meekly, Cavendish rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “I didn't mean to insinuate I didn't want your help...”

The shorter man sighed. “And ok, maybe I'm a little impulsive. Kinda thought we knew that already.”

Cavendish sighed in turn. “Quite. I don't know why we failed in the end. We've seen we can work together already.” When the time had been crucial, they'd saved two endangered youths together. Why couldn't they save a barn?

Dakota shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a barn doesn't feel stake-y enough.” He did have to admit he wasn't terribly invested in what happened to a building in the middle of nowhere compared to two children.

“Mm,” Cavendish relented, “Perhaps...well, regardless...apologies for snapping.” It was also said without looking at the other, and said quickly, but the Brit still wanted to let the other know he wasn't truly angry with him for what had happened. He'd been a smidge selfish too, really, wanting that moment for himself. If they'd just shared it in the first place, like they'd ended up doing...

The apology caught Dakota's attention. It was very in-line with the usual stiff and brief way Cavendish apologized, as it seemed like admitting he was wrong was just something that was hard for the other to do. He really liked being in control of a situation. For everything to go his way. Having noticed how little that seemed to actually happen, Dakota could maybe see where he was coming from.

Deciding this was just another little bump in their eventful road together, Dakota stepped closer and put a chummy arm around the other to shake him in a matching manner. “Well hey. We've always got next mission. And we're still friends, right?” He'd liked hearing that. He liked knowing that they'd grown closer. Their little spats shouldn't change that, right? Those were just something they did.

“Oh, well...of course..!” Cavendish returned, still a bit bashfully, “I didn't mean to suggest I'd thought less of you, either.” Had Dakota worried he would just drop all of the comfortable interactions they'd been building over something like this? Cavendish hadn't thought he would be so sensitive. His tongue just happened to get the better of him in a lot of cases. He was a naturally assertive type.

“Glad to hear it,” Dakota nodded, feeling his arm was comfortable where it was and so keeping it there. He was not afraid of casual friendly contact. “But hey, since we're on the topic of arguments, I seem to recall _you_ are under the delusion that you could hold a candle to my sharpshooting skills.” The point he directed at the other was less aggressive this time.

Quirking a brow at the challenge, Cavendish put his hands on his hips and asked, “Shall we return to the historical reserve and see?”

A grin met that. “I thought you'd never ask. But I've actually got a better idea. Let's make it interesting, why don't we?”

…

The two stepped out of the time stream and into the 1980's. A large neon-laden building stood before them, labeling itself an arcade. The day was in the twilight hours, peak time to show off the dazzling display.

Over the roof of the time car, Dakota shot the passenger a smirk as he gestured to the building. “Voila. One hundred percent authentic. Any skills you think you got, you can try and show 'em off here.”

Despite normally being adverse to time traveling for personal reasons, Cavendish had maintained that his honor was on the line here. Dakota had also shown him just a bit that not _everything_ had to be so by-the-books, and with that said...

Fingers tented in determination, Cavendish declared, “Let's do this thing.”

Inside, the pair was quick to locate the kind of shooting game they wanted in the giant dimly lit room aglow with more neon. And as they walked over to it with fresh stack of quarters, Dakota was only happy to recognize the music booming from the overhead speakers. Excitedly he grabbed Cav's arms and shook him. “Oh my gosh! Hey! It's Love Händel! I nearly forgot about these guys! They're great!”

Immediately, he let go of the other to begin rocking out on an imaginary guitar and singing along to a snippet of the lyrics. “Yeah, no, baby, you can't Hääääääändel me~! I rock my self-aware puns too exceeeeeessively~!”

Cavendish actually wished the music wouldn't be quite so near-deafening. He almost had to cover his ears. It also was not his favorite genre, more of that classical pop and rock Dakota seemed to be so infatuated with, so he did not share in the Italian's glee when he began making a public nuisance of himself, as he seemed fond of doing.

Rather, the taller spectacled man sidled away to a safe distance as soon as he'd been relinquished. “I wish you _had_ forgotten them...” he muttered. Still, he supposed he could appreciate a bit of fanboying, and that Dakota was enjoying himself. At least it showed he really was putting their spat behind them, and it was his mistake to get sidetracked when there was a contest to win!

Stepping away, Cavendish put his quarter on the lip of the game he and his partner were after, signaling to the scruffy jean-jacketed youthful pair currently using it that he had next dibs. Not a moment later Dakota had found him again, slamming his back against his and raising a knee while pretend-whaling away like some wannabe rock star, to which Cavendish let out an annoyed grunt.

Mutually, the two at the machine silently shared a glance, agreed these guys were fruitcakes and abandoned their game.

Turning his attention away from Dakota, Cavendish noticed the off-put arcade goers giving up use of the game and perked assuming they were just being polite. He waved them off with chipper thanks, getting totally ignored. “Alright, Dakota!” he directed to the man now performing an air guitar solo on his knees, _“Now_ we'll see who is the superior marksman!”

As Cavendish stepped forward to feed the machine, Dakota grinned and scrambled up from the floor to take his own position. Part of him was just excited to have a pal to play games with, but he was not going to show mercy.

Seconds later the pair were blasting pixelated ghosts in an amusement park, and the scores were already rather heavily skewed.

“I'm telling you, this device is faulty!” Cavendish complained, smacking the side of his blaster before firing desperately at the screen again.

“Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say,” Dakota passed him off in amusement, “Eat my ectoplasm, noob.”

“I'm serious!” Cavendish insisted, “This is completely unfair!”

Dakota snorted, willing to bite. “Ok, you wanna switch? I will gladly switch right now, and guaran _tee_ I can still beat your score. If I don't then I will parade you around this entire arcade and concede that you are the better gamer. But if I do, then you've gotta do the same.”

Cavendish puffed instantly, putting his blaster down and readily stepping into Dakota's space. “Fine! Go and make a fool of yourself. It's not as though you don't already enjoy doing that on your own.”

“True.” Dakota shrugged, but it looked like they were both confident about this, so the pair shared a brief handshake and the shorter party stepped to the station Cavendish had abandoned. However, as soon as Dakota picked up the other blaster, it rattled in his hands and sparked, causing his face to fall in surprise. He dropped the controller and it fizzled once more before a thin line of smoke drifted up from its casing. Clearly it was dead.

Dakota watched with raised eyebrows as the game onscreen ended in a cotton candy bloodbath, eyes then sliding over to Cav's screen as he fired like nothing had changed, tongue out between his lips as he concentrated on blasting ghosts. Wow. He was actually telling the truth. If he'd been telling the truth about the last game they'd played, then he must really be one unlucky guy.

Then again, now Dakota had no way of winning this impromptu bet of theirs, so maybe it evened out for him.

Even if the controller was busted, though, Cav was clearly not good at this. Dakota shifted his posture restlessly a few times in the next minute, finally unable to stand it and coming swiftly to stand behind the taller man and grab his hand over the back of his. The other hand snatched around Cav's waist to correct his posture and better align Dakota with his sights.

“Ok, seriously, you are driving me nuts with this,” he informed, “Shoot where it's _gonna_ be, and stop hunching like you're Quasi Modo. He didn't have guns.” If he couldn't win, he was at least going to do something productive.

Cavendish let out a small note of surprise when Dakota came up behind him, but it wasn't like it was out of the Italian's character. The more familiar he'd become, the more touchy he'd become in turn. He just seemed like a handsy person, and even just minutes ago had been against Cavendish's back in a different way. For the most part it was not terribly minded, and so allowed. The Brit might have complained about this second invasion of space just for how blunt and in proximity to the last it was, but the immediate change in his performance in-game was enough to distract from any verbal sniping. Instead, a cheery laugh escaped as the square-spectacled man saw a marked improvement in accuracy.

Dakota noticed the lack of complaint, and found it a nice change. Cav must have seen the tips helped, and delight overtook any issue he might have had. As well, the shorter man only noticed after the fact that his impulse had brought him into such a cozy position. Well, since he was here, getting no fight, he might as well enjoy it. He could thank his impulse on this one, he figured, letting his head tip ever so slightly to rest his cheek against Cav's warm back. The man was letting him be friendlier the more they were together, and this just seemed like a sure cue that Dakota could be comfortable expressing his comfort. He was a toucher, he had to admit. If he liked, he touched. Not that he was letting himself get carried away here. He just wanted to appreciate Cav being alive.

The game was a flurry of the two exclaiming over one another, pointing out various targets, insisting on which to prioritize, vying for more dominance over the blaster, or just cheering or jeering in reaction to what happened on the screen. It seemed over in a flash, and before they'd realized, their quarters had been spent.

With the blaster laid back on the arcade cabinet's shelving for it, Cavendish crossed his arms smugly and turned to the man in the orange sunglasses. “Well, there you have it. And don't think I've forgotten about your promise. We shook on it..!”

Feeling he had to at least _try_ one last-ditch effort to finagle a loophole for himself, Dakota presented his hands meekly. “C'moooon, you didn't really do _better_ than me. We were shooting _together..!_ ”

Cavendish's stance was strict. “You said, and I quote, you 'guaran _tee_ ' you can beat my score. That you have failed to do. I'm afraid shooting together only grants you a tie at best. _Not_ the win.”

Well, Cav's smug smirk had Dakota there. He'd tried. But Dakota wasn't done playing just quite yet, as his own smirk suggested. A tie wasn't an outright loss. “Ok, I'm a man of my word,” he relented, “And my word said I was gonna parade you around this entire arcade. So here we go!”

Before the thinner man's perplex could even fully register what was being suggested, he found himself wobbling and letting out a stunned warble as he was hoisted into the air. Dakota had ducked behind him again, this time bowing and poking his head between the Brit's legs. In a blink Cavendish was up on Dakota's shoulders, and the former was blushing profusely as the other began trotting him around like a proud trophy.

“King of games here, comin' through! That's right, folks, take a good look! Cavendish the ghost popper, get in line to meet him! He has technically bested me, and so wins the technical honorary title: Better Gamer! That I will no doubt steal back in no time, but hey, wear it while you can, right buddy?”

Cavendish's fingers were curled tightly through the locks of Dakota's afro at first, his spine tense and hunched, the only thoughts racing through his mind being how ridiculous he must look and terror at being judged for it. But as the pudgy man's words carried on, Cavendish found himself glancing down at the one carrying him instead of at all of the stunned faces watching him pass.

This was too silly. Dakota grinning up at him was too silly. His praises were silly, and yet they nestled in Cavendish's stomach, making him feel good in such a strange way, and bubbled their way up his throat. He chortled.

A giddy rush of exuberance overcame the man being carried, an impish streak that so rarely surfaced, and his curled fingers raised, elbows going out sideways as he laughed more openly. His rush was only encouraged by the onlookers cheering on this wild act now that they'd realized what was happening.

Dakota's grin widened to see Cav loosen up. He was really the best when he was like that: enjoying himself carefree. Dakota's steps sped up. “Haha, yeah!” He found himself energized by the attention he was getting, but moreso his passenger's acceptance.

Alas, he only got a couple minutes of marching his partner around before the arcade owner appeared, a tough middle-aged woman armed with a toolbelt, and spoiled the parade.

“Run for it, Dakota! She's got microswitches!”

Cavendish's tone, however, and the returned cling to the shorter party's hair, indicated he found the turn of events almost exciting. That was good enough for Dakota. Like a pair of teenaged hooligans, they scrambled to escape the woman shouting at them to quit horsing around before they broke something.

A good couple of laps were run around the arcade floor before Dakota saw his chance to break for the main doorway and took it. Cavendish looked behind them as his escort bid for freedom, feeling a sharp thrill at the thought of such a close shave. He knew he shouldn't enjoy being chased, but dagnabbit, a spot of troublemaking was just fun!

A sudden strike against the back of Cavendish's head cut off his thoughts. In Dakota's rush to escape, he'd neglected to consider the extra height his passenger added, and Cavendish had been too swept up in the moment to consider the doorframe. He let out a dismayed cry and his glasses slid off his face. Hands swiped desperately to grab for them, but fumbled and the lenses bounced to the ground. He would have called to go back for them, but with the woman now thoroughly enraged at the pair shaking her fist where they'd landed and declaring them banned, simply held the sore spot on the back of his head and let Dakota carry him away down the block. A small titter escaped as Cavendish couldn't help feeling like a _real_ troublemaker to have lost something in this process. Blame the adrenaline, but he couldn't help not being terribly upset right now.

Dakota didn't last much longer, his own unfit body not being able to run very far, especially while hauling his partner. “Ok...gotta stop now...sorry if we die...I'm done. Down you go.” Wheezing pathetically, the stout man bowed to dump Cavendish off of him, to which the other was willing to comply.

“We're not being followed~!” he informed the one bent over to suck in recovering breaths. Performing an antsy little foot-to-foot dance, Cavendish carried on, “Ha-haaa, we've gotten away with it..! We are _naughty_ rapscallions, aren't we~?”

Though his face was towards the ground, Dakota couldn't help beaming over what a bad boy act Cavendish thought a bit of public horseplay was. Could he please stop being so adorable? He was going to make Dakota feel something dangerous if he wasn't careful.

Catching his wind, the man in the leather jacket straightened himself up, reached back to push his hips for a spinal stretch and let out a grunt. Man, Cav didn't weigh much, but carrying another person was hard. Then looking at the Englishman, Dakota's brow went up. “Hey, what's wrong with your face..!” he blurted.

His own brow going up, Cavendish returned, “Beg pardon..?” That was rude.

“Glasses!” Dakota realized he hadn't exactly worded that the best, pointing to his own frames. “You don't have your glasses..! What happened, where'd they go?” He glanced around, only able to assume they'd fallen off during the ride, but not seeing anything in the dimming evening light.

“Ah, yes, well...” Cavendish cleared his throat lightly. “A casualty, I'm afraid. But not to worry, I _am_ far-sighted. I can navigate well enough without them, though I would like another pair sooner rather than later.”

Dakota perked. “Well hey, we don't have to leave just yet. Let's go to the mall over there, pick you up some new ones. And then we can try on outfits, _oh,_ I _love_ trying on local period clothes! Makes you feel...timey.” He wiggled his fingers for effect. “And _then_ we can get dinner. Mall pretzels are a great place to start. Eh? Eh? Whaddya say?”

“Actually, that all sounds...rather agreeable,” Cavendish granted. He wouldn't mind extending their fun, and certainly found appeal in dressing up. It was nice of Dakota to offer a quick solution to his glasses issue as well. Cavendish hadn't noticed there was a nearby mall when they'd arrived, but it did make sense for an arcade to locate near one.

“Great! Let's go.” Dakota thumbed down the sidewalk. They didn't need to bother going back for the car just yet. The mall was just a couple buildings over. Also that woman might still be waiting for them. “You need an arm for the walk, or..?” Just to be on the safe side, he thought he should offer.

“No-no, that's quite alright,” Cavendish insisted, placing his arms behind his back in a pointed fold, “As I said, I'm perfectly fine to navigate.” He did pass a glance to the indifferently shrugging man now striding beside him, however. “On the subject, however, I must wonder... _are_ those prescription sunglasses..?” They were worn at all hours, even now in the evening, and yet the lenses were such a garish orange. How could someone stand to have their world such a shade by choice if corrective lenses were a necessity?

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Dakota nodded, proving someone could indeed stand such a thing, “I can't see a thing without these puppies, though. Total near-sighter.” He lifted his sunglasses to accentuate the comment, removing his dark chocolatey irises of their filter. Those turned to Cavendish as a fresh grin formed. “Your head looks like a blobby carrot.”

Cavendish rolled his own powdery blue eyes now bared to the world. “A charming observation,” he assured dryly. Was there anything else wrong with his appearance his partner cared to mention tonight?

Dakota chuckled, then removed his glasses entirely and passed them over. “You wanna try 'em?” This was just something he'd noticed about glasses people. They usually liked to compare.

Indeed, though Cavendish hesitated for a second, he felt oddly inclined. “Oh, um...alright.” Delicately he took the extremely chunky, yellow-rimmed spectacles and put them on. “Deary me..!”

Right away that intense shade of color threw him off. In addition, the world became a thick fog as he put on a prescription that was clearly not meant for him. Dizzied, he actually had to stop walking and wobbled from being caught off-guard.

Reflexively, Dakota put his hands out as a safety net in front of and behind Cavendish, laughing at the reaction. “Told ya~..!” he teased.

The lanky man had to take the sunglasses off and blinked rapidly to restore a sense of normalcy to his eyes before passing the lenses back to their rightful owner. “How do you _tolerate_ all of that...tinge?” he decided to ask as they started moving again, fluttering his fingers towards the things Dakota was sliding back on. “Also, your lenses are filthy.”

A snort. “I dunno, I just think they're neat. Why does anyone like anything? Hey, you think this mall has a sock hop? I've always been curious what one of those _is..._ is it like an ancient laundromat, or...what.”

“That's the 1950's,” Cavendish corrected, taking the breezy response in stride, “This is the 19 _80's._ ”

“Ahhh...”

...

Despite there being no sock hop, the pair's trip to the mall was rather successful. It had an eyewear store, so there was a lot of goofing around to be done trying on all the different pairs. Dakota loved the aviators and insisted Cav get some, but the British man was not impressed, desiring something more modest. He found some good rectangular ones close to his old pair, but still had a good time trying on everything from hexagonal tortoiseshell frames to cat eyes to even a pair of obnoxiously-colored asymmetrical geometrical ones.

Dakota had also loved those, as well as the ones shaped like hearts and stars. Cavendish still refused to get them.

Once the two were done posing at one another, it was time to actually get the lenses done. They'd underestimated how long this would take, as in the future all you had to do was get your eyes scanned and the new lenses would come out on a conveyor belt. Here someone actually had to _craft_ them! Still, it was very interesting to experience an old-fashioned eye exam.

With glasses out of the way, it was time for the rest of the fashion show. Dakota was eager to go into every clothing store spotted, darting across the walkway from one to the other not even sure which to try first. Everything looked so...vintage! Cavendish couldn't help be amused, but also shared this excitement to a degree. He helped them along by voting for a first stop.

A blast was had with a new array of wardrobe, the duo taking turns raiding the racks and putting something on to showcase. Cavendish chose things like pastel jeans, bell sleeves, scarves, band t-shirts and multi-color suspenders, but also found himself partial to one jacket with a load of dangly tassles up the undersides of the arms. He even tried on a leather one to see what the fuss was about and had a giggle about feeling like a 'brutish ruffian'. Dakota tried on headbands, crisp wide shorts, jackets with shoulder pads, and even pulled a sassy act in a box tee that draped low off one shoulder. It looked awful with leg warmers and the sad attempt of cramming his bouncy locks through a scrunchie for a side ponytail.

There was a lot of mocking and laughter by the time they were ready to eat, and the meal went just as well. Cavendish was very chatty, which was always welcome. By the time they left, without buying anything after Cav's glasses, the day was nearly done. On the way out of the mall, Dakota only stopped in the parking lot to skip a couple rocks in one of the artistic waterways decorating the perimeter. Silently, Cavendish picked up his own rock and gave it a try too. They were both terrible at this and soon gave up.

Was it Dakota, or were these outings getting...nicer? Sure, he and Cav had hung out plenty by now, but this was... _really_ nice. It made him happy to know this man was his friend. Dare he say, this almost had felt like a date.

No, he didn't dare say that. He didn't dare think it. It was too weird. Too weird that his fleeting crush wouldn't be so fleeting. He'd been waiting for it to fizzle out and leave him alone, like his infatuations usually did, but instead...this? Not wanting to ruin the mood for either of them, Dakota just bit into the donut he'd gotten for dessert, eating that weird thought down.

However, as he drifted off to sleep that night, listening to Cav mumble in his dreams about wanting to be the one to feed gelato to the walrus, Dakota could not avoid a smile. He was sure preserving the timeline where they were together had been the right decision.


	5. Chapter 5

On the second day of waiting for a new assignment, Dakota got to learn another new thing about Cavendish: apparently he was quite into action spy movies.

The man had surprised him by asking where he was going, Dakota having planned on going to a movie alone since he didn't think Cav would be into it. Upon hearing the title, however, the redhead had sprung up and come to the door with Dakota and bobbed excitedly, pleading to come along. He'd been _waiting_ to see this movie!

How could Dakota refuse that?

So, the two sat down to _Spysplosion III: The Secretest Boom_ together.

Cav really did know his stuff, too, as a series of hushed whispers about previous installments informed. Dakota was incredulous, demanding to know what other non-stuffy genres the man was into. Despite taking offense to the remark, Cavendish revealed he was fascinated by all sorts of cinema. B-movies and cult classics, adventure films, dramas, fighting films, sci-fi, mysteries...even the odd horror movie.

That got a decidedly voluminous “No way!” out of Dakota, purely because he couldn't believe they liked so many of the same things, much less that the generally uptight man liked horror anything. His outburst got him shushed strongly by the theater around him, but all he did was force his voice back down to a whisper and demand to discuss more.

Cavendish was a bit more considerate to the surroundings, promising later. Besides, the spy team onscreen was about to make their big break into the bad guys' rigged vault! Other movies could wait.

Noting the stupidly cute way Cavendish pressed eager knuckles up under his nose, eyes glittering for the screen, Dakota agreed yeah, they should finish gushing over this movie first. He joined the other in clenching his fists eagerly and cheering on the protagonists.

Cavendish didn't see why his tastes were so strange. Was he not allowed to like certain things because he was more reserved than most? Well, he supposed he'd never really known anyone in his circles growing up that shared his starry-eyed interest in more than just business – in everything, really. But still! Dakota was acting like he _hadn't_ shared in the Italian's far goofier excursions.

Come to think, Dakota's interests spanned quite an array, and none of them actually seemed to match his grungy demeanor. The man liked playing dress-up and bouncy castles and pets and flowers and exploring and dancing like a fool...his musical tastes weren't even anything particularly hardcore. That 80's rock from the other day was probably the hardest Cavendish had heard.

Hm. Suddenly, Cavendish was quite curious about Dakota. How had he come to be that way? Why did he dress so aggressively when he acted like an oversized child? He would have to keep that in mind to ask at a more appropriate moment.

That moment came the next day, as the pair were staying in. Yesterday had been full of talk about film, but today the two had been mostly content doing their own things. It was while Cavendish was seated at his desk, doing a crossword, when he looked up to watch Dakota's activity of choice and couldn't hold back his curiosity. Dakota had an internet video projecting out of his phone and up against the wall. It was a video of some boy band he'd never heard of, and Dakota was mirroring them, teaching himself the movesets. A curious activity in itself, but considering who was partaking in it made Cavendish pry, “Dakota...may I ask you about yourself?”

“Huh?” Still mimicking the dancers before him somewhat awkwardly, the frizzy-haired brunette glanced over, “Oh yeah, shoot. Whaddya wanna know?” He assumed the man at the desk just wanted to ask who the band was or something.

Seeing the other was taking the gentle probe so easily, Cavendish couldn't tell if Dakota realized the depth of his question or if he genuinely didn't mind sharing his origins. Well, he'd been given permission to ask, so...

“How did you get here?” was the inquiry, “What was your life like before you decided to join the agency? And why _did_ you join?”

The kick Dakota had been performing got away from him as his eyes widened, and he ended up striking the stand the coffee pot was on. “Crud..!” he exclaimed, rushing forward to steady the wobbling pot on top. Some of the beverage inside splashed out and hit the carpet, and only after his reflexive save did Dakota register the heat. He hissed and hurried to yank his hands away, flapping them and blowing on his palms. Luckily there had been no true damage.

More importantly, he glanced behind him at the man quirking a brow at his back. Cav wanted to know about him? Cav wanted to _really_ know about him? Dakota's insides were a mix of excited flutters and nervous twisting. He hadn't expected that...but he was thrilled the man was taking a genuine interest beyond just getting along as roommates...but he also wasn't sure he was ready to get that serious.

Dakota didn't like being serious. He didn't tend to let himself get tied down or super attached to others. That meant that despite being a talker and over-sharing things about his personality, personal details stayed close to his heart. It was Cavendish asking, though. And Cavendish was just... _Cavendish!_ Dakota liked being close to Cavendish. He knew he was getting strangely attached already. And this man he liked so much was expressing an interest in reaching out and strengthening their friendship. Maybe...maybe it would be ok to get serious with him?

With the seconds dragging on, Cavendish assumed, “Have I overstepped..? If I have, it's alright to say.” As nagging has his curiosity was, he wouldn't want to disturb the other man's privacy. He could be professional.

Turning around, Dakota waved his palms negatively at the taller party now. “No, it's not that..!” He did want to tell this person, he realized. If there was someone he wanted to take a chance on truly opening up to, it was this man. “It's just...I didn't expect it. But uh...fair warning, it's a little less fun than other stuff we've been talkin' about, uh...you really sure you want my whole backstory?” He would give the other the chance to keep things more casual. Cav didn't have to take a personal interest in him if he didn't want to hear a not-so-great story.

Cavendish's head tipped slightly. “Well, now you've got me _really_ curious,” he responded, “I promise, whatever it is you have to say, I will not judge you. I simply _must_ know how it is that your personality has ended up seeming so...random.”

Dakota's own brow quirked as he moved to turn his video off and collect his phone. _“I'm_ random? Says the guy who can recite the British Bill of Rights _and_ reenact the entire climax of Stumbleberry Finkbat by himself.”

Cavendish put his wrists on his hips and gave the other a hard look.

Dakota put his hands up. “Ok, ok, yes. Missing the point. Well, if we're gonna do this, we'd better get comfortable.” He walked over to the couch, Cavendish taking the hint and standing to join him, then turning to face the other once modestly seated. Dakota had his knee angled out on the cushion and an arm draped over the couch's back.

“What I mean,” the thinner man pressed, “Is just that you put on this air of disregarding authority and being 'dangerous', but you're really more simply adventurous, silly and...kind from what I've seen. Very genuine. Your interests are not nearly as untoward as your dress would suggest, either. You don't even curse! For which I am glad, of course, but I do have to wonder where this juxtaposition comes from. Normally you wouldn't think someone of your reputation would even be interested in working for the government.”

Looking to the side, Dakota's face tightened a bit. It was weird how Cav was right on the money. He'd really been paying attention while they were together after all, hadn't he? And it felt strangely good to hear him call the stout man kind and genuine. No one used such a pleasant tone when describing him. Dakota felt butterflies of gratitude stir inside him.

Instead of making a sarcastic comment about the other critiquing him, Dakota let out a breath in preparation. He was really about to do this, huh? “You're not wrong,” he admitted with a light shake of his head, “That's actually another reason I've been looking for a new style. I know I said I just like trying things on and I want something more comfortable but...this also doesn't feel like _me_.” He lifted his arms and gave himself a glance.

Cavendish tipped his head again curiously. Dakota hadn't been fully honest when discussing himself previously? How selective had the details he'd heard been?

Dakota went on, “This was all mostly an angry decision that ended up being how I felt I _need_ to dress. You really caught me at a weird point in my life. I kinda... _just_ made some other big decisions right before I met you. Agh, I'm already screwing this all up. Lemme just start at the start and start by saying I didn't have the best home life.”

Watching the man exasperate himself by not knowing where to begin his tale, Cavendish noted this must not be a practiced topic. His brow pinched to hear the direction things were going to take as well. This first kernel of information already painted a slight idea of how things had gone.

In order to prompt the brunette onto a helpful track and give him a place to build from, Cavendish asked gently, “How do you mean?”

That did give Dakota a foothold in the conversation and he was glad the other had given it to him. Looking at Cavendish made him feel oddly grounded as he answered, “Well, I grew up in Little Italy. And I mean _Little-_ Little Italy, not one of those urban sections in some bigger city, I mean the country, after it broke off from Big Italy in the Dolphin War flood. Anyway! Not the cushiest place to grow up in to begin with, but my family fit right in. My mother cussed like a sailor and was one-a those ones who weaponized shoes, y'know..?” His hands moved to mime a whacking motion and flinging. “Always letting _her_ family and bum friends sleep in the living room, but fighting with them about _some_ thing when they were awake.”

A careless shrug and a roll of his eyes there, not giving a hoot what any of that screaming he'd so pointedly ignored had been about.

Stunned fingertips came to hover in front of Cavendish's lips. Good heavens, how dreadful! That was the sort of hooligan he'd expected Dakota to be when they'd met, but after knowing him, he had nothing but sympathy to hear he'd come from a background such as that. How had he ever managed to avoid turning into that? “And your father..?” was his next question, however.

Another shrug. “Never had one. Walked out before I was born, didn't care to raise me, never looked into him. The way I see it, if he doesn't care who I am, I don't care who he is. Fair's fair. We're not family.” The tone was blunt and hard, and the palms-down hand motion told the Brit that was all there was to know on that subject quite succinctly.

In only a minutely looser tone, Dakota carried on. “Yeah, Mom was plenty to handle on her own, though. Should prob'ly count myself lucky I only had to deal with one parent. I was told _all_ the time _exactly_ how to be and how to make myself useful, mostly as an errand boy. Let's just say we did not agree on most things. Even as a kid I thought it was unfair that I never got to do anything. Threw a heck of a lotta tantrums, I can tell you that much. I certainly picked up how to scream and pick my fights from her.

“Well anyway, that all carried into Teenage Me pretty easily. I hated the way things were around me. I started wearing this stuff and doing whatever I wanted. Anything to tick Mom off.” Another brief indication to his clothes. “The look helped at school, too. You would not _believe_ how much bullying goes on in the slums. I hated all of it. I wanted things to change. I wanted outta there. Standing up for other kids barely makes a dent in that kind of place, and it really made me wanna give up. Still, a few dozen fights and a couple years of insubordination later, Mom kicked me out. I saw it as a free ride.”

Cavendish could barely believe what he was hearing. It sounded like Dakota had lived a very boxed life and spent most of it blocking his surroundings out, only nursing a rise of injustice inside himself. It made him feel terrible yet again for the way he'd pre-judged the man. “I'm terribly sorry, Dakota...” he felt the need to sympathize.

Dakota's shoulders hunched once more. “Ah, whaddya gonna do? It's not like I hadn't already learned how to let things roll offa me. I come from hardy stock. And like I said, I saw that as the perfect chance to do what I always wanted and get away. I hopped the ocean just to get as far away as possible. Nothin' like a fresh start in a new country, eh?”

“Actually, I can somewhat relate to that part...” Cavendish granted.

The wavy-haired man smiled a bit to hear there was some kind of connection to be had between their stories, however small. “Right. So once I was here it went pretty simple. I spent a few years job hopping, hitchhiking, finding a place to settle and trying out all the stuff I never got to. Made a point of not wanting to be anything like Mom, so I did it all without the drinking, smoking, potty mouth, what have you. Chose grease instead. Mellowed out. Started to feel really weird in a get-up I didn't really need anymore. Still found it hard to make connections, though. Turns out I'm still a lot to handle. I got a big personality, and nobody likes keeping you around for long if you don't really have any practical skills. So I didn't open up a whole lot. But met some nice people.”

This was making sense. All of those stories Cavendish had heard about Dakota's reputation were the result of an unprepared youth struggling to make it on his own and find his place in the world. His suppressed freedom had also resulted in a strong desire to explore what that world had to offer and no doubt contributed to Dakota's immaturity streak.

One worry came to mind. “I hope you haven't thought _I_ was trying to treat you in such a way as your mother...” Dakota had once likened him to such a figure while snapping at him.

Passively, Dakota waved a hand. “Nooo, no, you are _way_ more fun to argue with than her. You're just a little naggy. She was more the...degrading insults shrieked with swears every other word type.” His lower eyelids pinched awkwardly as he tried to describe his mother as breezily as possible. Just to assure Cavendish there was no serious comparison between the two and his past was not effecting their relationship, he pressed, “It's not like growing up with her ruined arguments for me or anything. I'm naturally bickery, you might-a noticed. So are you. Yeah, half the time you're ranting about something completely meaningless, but that's cute. Makes me wanna tease ya. I wouldn't be your friend if I thought you meant most of it. When you're nagging, ehhh, it feels like it's from a place of love, let's say.”

It actually meant a lot to hear Dakota wish to put the other's mind at ease. He found their little tiffs enjoyable..? That too was relieving in its own way...Cavendish had never mentioned, but he thought arguing with Dakota was rather stimulating himself. It was never boring, that was for sure. They were each so headstrong and sure of their stances that it was always an engaging battle of wits on some level, even if the topic was something ridiculous like how to pronounce a word.

“Good to know,” was all he said on the matter, however, “And the Bureau..?”

“Ahh, right,” Dakota nodded, remembering he hadn't yet mentioned where his current job had come in, “ _That_ was actually because I wanted some structure, believe it or not.” Seeing Cavendish blink, he smirked and nodded again, “Yeah, I know. But I was getting pretty fed up with the whole no ties, barely making enough for five meals a day lifestyle. I actually still wanted to make a difference somehow, too. You know how some kids join the army looking for guidance or whatever? Well, no way I was doing _that –_ _way_ too much exercise, and I'm not lookin' to learn to kill anybody – but there were plenty of other government jobs to look at, and hey! Time travel looked neat. I was right, too. During classes I even got to go on this ride-along for a mission in Mississippi, but eh, I'll tell you about that some other time. Jumping time periods was a blast, and well, you just so happened to get in the way on one-a my joyrides. So here we are.” Dakota still couldn't shake all of the rebel in him, what could he say? By pure chance it had led him to Cavendish, anyway, and if nothing else he could be glad for that. Otherwise he'd probably be sitting here with some stiff right now, continuing to not tell this story at all.

So Dakota was a big kid who dressed tough and was still on the road to finding his true self. That explained his random personality quite perfectly. “Thank you for sharing,” Cavendish said sincerely, “I know it must not have been pleasant to bring up, but I feel as though I've come to understand much more about you. And it seems quite worth the understanding.”

Dakota didn't even realize the heartfelt beam stretching across his face. He did register the warm glow of gratitude in his chest, though. A growing fondness. Telling Cavendish about himself felt good. It was a giant weight off of his own chest, and to hear the other was happy to know more about him made the smaller man happy in turn.

He was glad he wasn't too much for his partner, either. Actually, Dakota had expected him to want out not long after they'd started, as he had. He'd just thought whatever time they had would have been fun while it lasted. What he hadn't expected was Cavendish realizing that the way he'd been stand-offish was unfair, and then treating him like a friend. Dakota might have been a handful, but the Brit kind of was too in his own way. Maybe Dakota needed to be around someone as stubborn as himself. Someone who wouldn't tolerate his nonsense but also was too gentle to really wish he'd be different. Someone who cared about him because he was human and their heart was too big to let him self-destruct. Someone like Cavendish.

“Are you alright?” Cavendish quirked a brow. Dakota was staring like he was lost in space again. Had there been something wrong with the redhead's sentiment?

Coming down to Earth, Dakota tutted lightly. “I dunno,” he shrugged honestly. He was having another crush moment, but this time he didn't feel like stuffing it down. He was starting to think it wasn't going away, and he kind of might not want it to. But that was an intimidating notion. This was his work partner. Having feelings for him might make things awkward. What if Cav didn't like him as much? Dakota had dated plenty, but he'd never opened up so much to any of those partners, and the relationships hadn't lasted more than a few months at most. Both of those factors could say something either way about how approaching Cavendish might go. Was he willing to risk such a great developing bond?

Taking that response to mean Dakota held some lingering troubled thoughts over his past, the taller man glanced at the teddy bear he now kept displayed proudly beside the couch and picked it up without hesitation. Offering it forward, he asked, “Would Dennis help..?” A helpful pair of squeaks was squeezed out of the bear.

A spark went off in Dakota's heart at such an adorably sweet gesture. Ok. Yeah. He liked Cavendish. He was declaring that now. Reaching for the bear, he just said, “Thanks.” He gave Dennis one firm snuggle, feeling butterflies as he beamed like an idiot, and in the rush of it acted on impulse, diving forward to bring Cav into this. He wanted to bask in a moment this rare. Cav wasn't tender often, so when he was, it just made it all the more a treat, and meant you knew he really meant it. The bear squeaked between the two bodies as the brunette crushed the other seated party into a three-way embrace.

“Oh..!” That was hardly expected on Cavendish's part. “Dakota..!” he chuckled. He supposed he didn't mind a real hug, and by Dakota's grin assumed this must be his own clownish way of expressing gratitude. Glad to have made the man feel better, the other slid his own arms delicately around Dennis and Dakota in return, giving the spot between Dakota's leather-clad shoulders a fond pat. “Alright, there there...you're welcome.”

As much as he'd wanted to just melt into Cav's sweetness in that moment, tell him how certain of his feelings he was, Dakota avoided making things weird and separated himself from the other soon enough. He kept Dennis and passed the moment off as just what it appeared: clowning. “Hmm, hard to say who gives the better hugs,” he pretended to scrutinize, then bringing Dennis up to his cheek as he cooed to the plush animal, scratching its belly with one finger, “I think you might have some competition, big guy~..! Yes you might~..! Cav's been stealing your secrets. Better start workin' out those hug muscles so you can defend your title.”

Amused by this display of buffoonery, Cavendish folded his arms and gave a half-smile. “He would never. Dennis _loves_ Daddy..!”

A snort. “Daddy..?” Ok, that was almost cringe-worthy, but still the way it was said, so brightly and innocent, was cute. “What, did you have an affair with a sewing machine? Say yeah, come to think, where'd you _get_ Dennis anyway? Why is he something you wanna bring around with you?” It was kind of an impractical item.

As Dakota passed the bear back to its rightful owner, Cavendish sat Dennis up in his lap and playfully held his paws to bounce his stuffed arms a bit. He couldn't help but smile as he handled this toy. “Ah. Why, he was a gift from my Nana..! I've had Dennis for years..! I would always play father to him during our games. He was my favorite! And _she_ was my favorite relative. Now of course he doubles as a memento, but even after I was set to leave home, I just couldn't imagine abandoning him.”

Ahh. A keepsake from a favorite grandmother. That seemed right. Cav probably had way more fond memories of home. Actually, this was the perfect opportunity to ask about the Brit's background, so maybe he should take it. He'd brushed off getting to know his partner that in-depth too. Didn't think it was going to matter so much in the long-haul.

With a minute clearing of his throat, the afroed man ventured, “So I'm guessing you had it a little nicer, huh..?”

Cavendish blinked and his spine straightened, registering how he must have sounded after just hearing about Dakota's hardship. “Goodness, I _do_ apologize if I've offended you..! I didn't mean to point out our differences in such a way..! ”

Cavendish readily apologizing..? Now Dakota knew the mood was grave. And he couldn't even appreciate the gesture, because the Brit hadn't even done anything wrong. “That's not it,” he corrected, “I told you, it's fine for me. I know who I am and I'm not afraid to go all out on that.” He'd accepted his origins, and his only current goal was to enjoy his freedom while finding whatever it was he was meant to do permanently. “Since you're asking _me,_ I just kinda thought...well, I wanna know about you too. We never had a quality time sit-down like this. Seems like a good time. I know you came from somewhere fancy and apparently did a lotta stuff before coming here, but how'd _you_ come by the Bureau? What made _you_ think this was the place for you?”

This was flattering to hear. Cavendish admittedly had come to enjoy how nosy his partner was about him – talking about himself was something the Brit did like to do, and it was nice that someone was interested – and he admired Dakota's unexpected maturity in comfort with himself. If he really wanted to engage in 'quality time', as he put it, by sharing like this, then so be it. Cavendish didn't get much chance to open up properly himself.

“Well, alright. If you insist. As you know, I grew up in Yorkshondon – did you know it used to be multiple cities? Quite fascinating. Anywho, I do admittedly come from a rather reputable lot. My father is an overseer of Oxbridge, and Mother does own a rather successful line of lawn manicuring equipment. I did, as you say, 'have it nicer', I must confess...I had them both, anyway, and there was never any particular dramatic tension.”

He still felt a bit guilty talking about getting along with his family after Dakota's turn, but the man looked rather content as he paid attention, so Cavendish got ahold of himself. Still, he decided to gear the subject a little more towards him personally rather than make it sound like he was bragging about his situation.

“I was always a curious child. Especially because of the schooling aspect, I wanted to learn everything..! I was watched rather closely thanks to my rather hands-on approach regarding that, as well as perhaps a small tendency to be accident-prone, but I did get a fair few lollies once learning to behave.”

He almost seemed proud of that, Dakota noted. Was that why he was so keen on uptight behavior? He'd been trained to be obedient with sweets? Did he even realize?

“There were a fair few things I'd wished I could do at that age as well,” the Brit went on, seeming to not think anything of what he'd unintentionally hinted at, “But education was more important. I was more than excited to learn the skills I studied for anyway. Concert piano, artisanal cooking, courtroom procedure...it was a very full schedule during Primary.”

Dakota's eyes bugged. “Woah, wait, you were doin' all that stuff as a _pre-schooler?_ ”

In turn, Cavendish's brow quirked. “Primary grades span a bit more than that, but if you want to be technical and assign a starting age comparable to American proceedings, then...yes..? Why, is that unusual?”

“Uhhhh...apparently not.” Dakota wasn't crazy, right? Toddlers shouldn't be prepping for law school...right? “You sure you got to have fun..?” Where had Cavendish ever managed to get in this alleged playtime with Dennis if he was busy doing all that?

Cavendish still couldn't figure out where this incredulous gawp was coming from. “Certainly,” he persisted, “Especially when Nana was visiting. We enjoyed many outings, she, the family and I. I particularly enjoyed when she was the one watching me. She let me get away with all sorts of naughtiness. Once she even completed _all_ of my assignments for me and snuck me out to the circus instead! I do believe she got in trouble with Mother and Father over that one. Tee hee. Oh, but I got to tag along on many of my parents' business ventures as well. That was my chance to meet my peers and make connections of my own..!”

“Hmm...” Dakota wasn't entirely sure, but if Cav said so...at least this grandmother sounded like a good influence. That was probably where any impishness Cav had came from. “Well, you musta been pretty popular then, huh? Fittin' in with all them fancy people.” The other had talked about being accomplished plenty, so he must have had fun with that crowd. “You make lotsa friends?”

“Oh, of course..!” Another ready answer. “We all acknowledged one anothers' accomplishments in our fields..! They recognized me just as much as our parents..! Why, my peers even let me play along with several of their activities, like this one game they made up where they would hide my stuffies..! I was the only one who ever brought them, you see, and they couldn't hide my thumb, the sucking of which they also claimed was juvenile...um...” Cavendish's brow knitted mildly as he retroactively appeared to register something wrong with this game. “Oh, but I would always win at Hide and Seek..! Why, sometimes the other children wouldn't find me for hours..! I can't tell you how many footlockers and wardrobes I spent nearly an entire party in...” A bit more of a crease formed on his forehead. “Although I suppose sometimes they also...had some less kind words. They never did want to hear about my comic books or cartoons or pretend adventures...and there was a time they stole my hat and threw it off the balcony into the pool so Mother would get angry at me...”

Dear lord, now that he was saying it out loud...how had he never realized how little fun he had had around other children? Had he really thought he was being included this way?

Dakota's own brow furrowed as he listened, watching as Cavendish seemed to realize exactly what the brunette was thinking. It...didn't sound like Cavendish had had as great a time as he thought. His memory just seemed to have spun it that way. Dakota assumed that was because he was such an eager optimist, but reluctantly had to admit that the Brit was just also a little clueless. He felt a retroactive need to protect the man, although it was clearly far too late to do anything about the bullying.

Not wanting to embarrass the man by saying anything about it, either, Dakota maintained silence, letting Cavendish piece it together himself.

“Still, when we were older..!” the ginger perked, desperate to find a more pleasant time to talk about.

Hoping to give it to him, Dakota prompted more memories with, “Yeah, I'm sure even that crowd has to mature with age...you had to find _someone_ to hang out with, right?”

“Uh, well...” When phrased like that, Cavendish struggled once more to pull up a fitting instance. “I don't know about _hanging_ _out,_ specifically...but my peers _were_ far more likely to give me their accolades. I'd won many awards by then, you see, and had graduated early to become a member of Her Majesty's court...I was very busy then.”

A blink from Dakota. “You didn't...hang out with anyone..? Not even for just like a lunch date..? Coffee..?”

Cavendish's lower eyelids raised as he looked just as uncomfortable as Dakota while they both tried to make the taller man sound like less of a loser. “I suppose if you count...business meetings...”

A moment of silence as they both knew neither of them counted that.

Dakota couldn't believe it. Despite Cavendish being some bigwig from a fancy background, who had worked for the _Queen of England,_ he still hadn't found a proper social connection. Only where Dakota had flitted about and kept his interactions loose, Cavendish had been too pure to even notice his interactions were phony. And unbelievably, he was too pure to be tainted by that stuffy world entirely. That was admirable.

“Well...their loss,” the stout man decided firmly. To prevent Cavendish from feeling any worse, he tried moving the story along more as well. “Still, what about the time bureau? What got _you_ into the whole time travel thing? Where'd you get into Professor Time and all that?”

It was Cavendish's turn to feel grateful for Dakota steering the conversation in a way that let him get back on track. As well, the man in blue couldn't help continuing to appreciate how very supportive and accepting Dakota was. He _wanted_ Cavendish's story to be a successful one. He really was kind at heart.

With a clear of his throat, the Brit smiled some at the thought of his hero and reminisced, “Ah, yes...actually, I'd found out about him rather early on. I couldn't have been more than seven when I happened to catch news about him on the telly. He's a great historical figure, after all, and the event was monumental. He was there talking about how inventing time travel was great and all, but that he wanted to _do_ something with it. That he'd gotten government funding to open up the Bureau of Time Travel. Naturally, I found that idea to be quite fascinating. Also he looked quite stylish. I asked Father about the intricacies of time travel, and he brought me some material on the subject to peruse in my spare time.

“Of course I ended up quite taken with the subject and fast became hungry for more. Soon I was reading everything there was to know about Professor Time, his methods, and I'd made it my goal to join this agency he'd just opened. He was just such a humanitarian and had done so much to better mankind by making it possible to help _anyone_ at _any_ point in time..! I couldn't help but want to be just like him..! My parents were quite sure it was going to end up as just another phase, but twenty cycles later, there I still was, collecting memorabilia and striving to ace that entrance exam, so they were finally more than happy to allow me to quit my job as a barrister, move to America and join up. Obviously, I made it.” A soft chuckle there.

Dakota could only smile fondly. So the complete opposite of a whim like his, Cavendish had essentially been striving for this his whole life, feeling like _this_ was the place he belonged, following in the footsteps of his idol. That was definitely some admirable determination. And jeez, with all of that serious studying on his plate, it was no wonder his hair was turning grey early.

“Y'know, you could just call them _years..._ ” the Italian noted in chide, opting to keep the mood light.

Cavendish scoffed. “Well, that's not what they call them in study..! Besides, putting it that way makes me feel...old.” Meekly, his eyes darted to the side for a second.

A snort from Dakota. Still self-conscious, the other was. At least he admitted it. “Yeah, ok, but you still graduated early and stuff, right? And you were studying while doing your court thingy...how old are you _actually?_ ” Twenty years still couldn't be half of Cav's age. And ignoring the hair, he had quite a youthful face.

Sagging slightly in embarrassment as he was asked outright, Cavendish wished he could have just bitten back that a gentleman never told, but knew that would only make Dakota push harder. It was easier just to squeeze Dennis and admit a frazzled, “Thirty-seven...”

Dakota's eye bulged. “Haaaaaaahhh..?!” No _way._ There was no _way_ Cavendish was almost _forty!_

At that reaction, the taller man hugged Dennis all the firmer and turned his head away from the man gawping at him, lips in an awkward wobble as he felt very judged.

Snapping himself out of it, Dakota waved his hands quickly, “No, I just mean...you look _great_ for thirty-seven then, um..! I was _not_ expecting a number that high!”

Cavendish just slouched further hearing that hasty attempt to comfort him. Was Dakota calling him immature..? Was he supposed to look a certain way? People regularly lived to one hundred twenty in their time, so he didn't feel like it ought to be _so_ shocking. It wasn't like he'd said he was eighty.

Seeing how clearly he was digging himself a nice hole with his reactions, Dakota quickly tried to get his head on straight. “No, I-I'm just sayin'...I'm twenty-eight, so...it just feels like you're a lot closer to...um. Y'know what? Never mind. It's cool. I still like...you.” He winced as he let slip one detail he hadn't meant to while his thoughts were churning, but let himself finish the sentence anyway as he figured it was still an ambiguous sentiment. It was true, too. He couldn't see nine years compared to a couple changing anything about how he felt regarding the man. Even now, the way he was sulking into Dennis was just too dang precious. Everything he'd heard was still amazing. Cavendish was still Cavendish.

That final strangely-delivered sentence was enough to make Cavendish sit up a bit more and quirk his brow. “Well, I would _hope_ something like that wouldn't give you second thoughts...” he noted with some perplex, “Revoking companionship based on _years_ would be highly petty of you.”

“Uh...right.” For friends, sure. Age meant a lot less to most people regarding that. Dakota was not very picky about numbers for other circumstances, however, maintaining a lax opinion there just as much as any other area. Cavendish just didn't realize that he legitimately was marveling over how good the redhead _did_ look for his age. His smooth features and plump cheeks made him look younger than Dakota! He had so much energy, too. It made Dakota's imagination wander into wondering how that plus experience would make Cavendish in...

Shaking his head vigorously, Dakota cut that thought off in a hurry. Woah there! Fast as he usually liked to move his relationships along, this one actually meant something. Plus he was going to get a lot more time with this one. It was probably why it had been allowed to blossom into this strange intimate area in the first place. Dakota did not want to upset that true friendship by jumping more guns and scaring Cav off. He did not want to risk it, he'd already decided.

Offering a pleasant smile, the Italian once more pushed to get the conversation somewhere less awkward. “Just like...in case you were worried. Still like you. Just sayin'. And I'm glad you shared with me, too. Feel like there was plenty in there worth knowing about you just as much.”

“Ah.” That made...slightly more sense. Dakota just seemed to be as bad with his words as he ever was. Cavendish appreciated the sentiment that the other had enjoyed getting to know him better, at least. “Well...choose your words more carefully next time.” He chose to act huffy to mask the awkwardness.

“Definitely.” Dakota nodded, now feeling just as much as the other that they needed an escape to segue out of this atmosphere. “Um...so now that the heavy stuff's out of the way, you wanna join my dance practice? It's fuuuun~..!” Standing, Dakota broke free of the couch and pulled his phone back out, waggling it enticingly.

“No, thank you,” Cavendish returned flatly, not one for needlessly prancing about like a ninny. Nevertheless, he was glad the tension had been broken and stood too, putting Dennis back where he belonged. “I am feeling like stretching my legs some, however, but I believe I'll simply go for a walk.” That would suffice as a nice way to air out after this weighty talk.

Dakota gave a signature breezy shrug. “Suit yourself. Don't blame me when you get back and I'm halfway to stardom, though. I'll remember to thank you in my acceptance speech at the Dance Awards.”

With a roll of his eyes, Cavendish accepted this jest alongside a smirk and a fond shake of his head. Sometimes he could appreciate Dakota's humor. Sometimes. Here, it was a nice return to normalcy.

So, while the shorter man turned his internet videos back on and resumed teaching himself random boy band moves, Cavendish headed out into the afternoon for a nice stroll and a relaxing session of throwing bread crumbs for ducks.


	6. Chapter 6

Dakota dangled from a belaying harness a couple hundred feet above ground, his own feet planted against the rocky surface of a cliffside monument's head as he beamed casually at his handheld. He'd kept his word to his doppelganger and had called him, realizing only after they'd parted that he hadn't known _how_ he was going to keep in contact but lucking out when the dumb idea came to him to dial his own time code...and it had worked.

There had been only a couple calls so far, but Dakota didn't see anything wrong with holding one in the middle of his and Cavendish's second mission. While the pair scrubbed debris, graffiti, and pulled old abandoned bird's nests out of the giant head's nostrils, Dakota also chatted with his past self, occasionally tilting his phone candidly to glimpse the man several feet beneath him, scouring away at the carving's mouth. It made his past self smile to hear what had been happening with Cavendish and to see him still existing. He was as fussy as ever, it seemed, complaining about performing a job as menial as this for a mission.

Dakota just let him ramble, much more willing to accept the job and multi-task with himself. Currently Past Dakota was stroking a bushy addition to his own lip as he stood in his own apartment bathroom. “So yeah, whaddya think of the mustache look anyway? I was thinkin' it'd be even harder to spot me if I looked less like you..me. You-me.” Grammar still wasn't perfect.

Dakota nodded. “Ehhh, I'm kinda diggin' it..! We-you kinda look like a cop. Classic street punk turn-around.”

They shared an identical tut. “I know right?” the duplicate grinned. Just like a cheesy old movie, he had completed his transformation. “Maybe I should start wearin' blue, too.”

“Definitely think about it. You...I...we'll need a new look now that you've trashed my poor innocent jacket.”

“Haha. Like it hasn't been overdue. I think I actually brought some moths _with_ me it was so fulla--”

A sudden snapping noise followed by a sharp scream cut the duplicate off, and Dakota's head twisted to gape in pure stun as he watched the unmistakable distant figure of Cavendish plummeting down into the treeline. A very distant and unpleasant noise cut off the elongated holler, followed by a grim silence.

Past Dakota could only stare at his screen, watching the back of his own head as the present model was distracted. “Did..? Was that..?”

“It happened again!!” Dakota's wide eyes turned back, a familiar panic in them, but with far more confusion in them than last time. Showing his counterpart the free-dangling tether that had just been holding Cavendish up, and then the spot below that had just claimed the man, Dakota brought the screen back to his face and demanded of himself, “He died again!! How is that even possible?!”

A slack jaw met the irrefutable proof. Really? After he'd sacrificed his metaphysical existence for Cavendish, he'd only managed to scrape together another _week_ with the man?! That...did not seem fair!

Present Dakota seemed to be losing his grip again, too. “I...I don't even know what to do now! Should I save him again? It's gonna be way harder to stop it all the way up _here!_ Is this gonna _keep_ happening? Is he gonna die every mission?!”

“God I hope not...”

“Right?! But I can't just _not_ do something, can I?! He's..! He's..!” Things had been going so well! They were only getting closer the more time they spent together, and of course Dakota didn't _want_ Cavendish to die, but now that it would actually take some conscious effort to accomplish, now that another him already had to be hidden from his boss, was it something he really ought to do..? It didn't feel right to leave Cavendish when Dakota was the only one who even knew what happened...but...but...he could feel himself torn between doing something stupid that he _knew_ was the option he wanted, or just letting it be, accepting the fate the universe seemed to want for Cav. Would that be healthier for him? He was already so used to cutting losses. But that stubborn side didn't want to _let_ the universe just take this from him!

Almost like sensing his turmoil, a flash of light appeared in Past Dakota's bathroom behind the man, and a time portal opened up. Out stepped a third Dakota, causing both of the others to blink in confusion.

The one with the mustache looked the new arrival up and down and gave an appreciative whistle. “Where did I get _that?_ ” he polled. This Dakota was sporting a red, yellow and gold track suit. His hair was trimmed a lot neater, too. He looked slick.

“Window shopping,” the new Dakota gave shortly, gesturing the unimportance with a curt hand motion, “Look, I gotta make this quick, I got Cav holding our place in line while I 'go to the bathroom'.” A brief glance around where he stood. “Which is...technically accurate.”

The Dakota on the cliffside hunched and leaned in demanding, “Wait, what! Cavendish is alive?”

“With me he is,” informed the newest Dakota, emphasizing with a hand to his gut, “Your Cavendish...yeah, he's very dead right now.” Putting both hands out in a motion to settle down now, he attempted to prevent the sensed spiking tension by continuing, “See I'm from like...fifteen deaths in the future, and well...I kinda figured I should come back and warn one of...me. From early on. I remember bein' kinda panicky about the whole thing. Didn't want it to be the first one though, 'cause that was a pretty big learning moment for me emotionally.”

“Of course I'm panicking!” Present Dakota's eyes widened as he registered a belated detail. _“Fifteen?_ So what, are you saying he _does_ die every mission? And we're still saving him?”

The track-suited Dakota pressed his hands more insistently. “Nooo, no...well, not _every_ mission. Cav, uh...well let's just say he got off to a bad start. Definitely died the first two times. But then he started dying without missions too, uh...oo boy, I am not doin' a good job here, am I?”

Judging by the baffled looks both of his other selves were giving him, he could guess not. Starting over, he waved his hands and tried again. “Yes, Cav dies. Turns out he's very death-prone. But he doesn't die like...every day. Ehh, not that often if you think about it. Actually, with some-a the beatings he takes it's _impressive_ he _doesn't._ ” That Dakota took a small moment to smile to himself and rub the back of his neck with a sort of admiration the other two easily recognized as fondness. So...apparently they still had feelings for the man.

“I think _once_ is still too many!” The cliffside Dakota insisted. How could he ever be so casual about someone he cared for suffering such horrible repeated fates?

The mustached Dakota chipped in, “Kinda, yeah...” As the one who had to start his life over completely as a result of that death, he had to feel a little trivialized.

Future Dakota ignored the protests. “Point is, I'm here to put somma my – your doubts at ease. There's like, a bunch of 'me's now and we're...not really sure what to do with ourselves yet, but we're looking into it! You, you're gonna wanna leave when the lease is up.” The visitor pointed to the version of himself who owned the bathroom he was in. To the Dakota on the phone, he gave, “As for you, I just have one question. Answering it always helps me. The fact that it's Cav aside, or right, or wrong or whatever...are you _really_ the type of guy who can let someone die when you _know_ you could've stopped it..?”

The present version of the man's eyes widened. He felt that question send a harsh chill through his gut, knowing the answer immediately. It fit in line with everything his instincts had been vying for mere moments ago in panic. “I...no. I can't.”

Future Dakota smiled. “I didn't think so. And that's as good a reason as any not to worry about breakin' the rules, eh?”

Both other Dakota's couldn't help agreeing. Even if they both ended up as sacrifices, they couldn't just stand by and let a life end. And it made that determination to fight back against the universe's cruel plot to yank Cavendish away from the rebellious man spike.

Still, the present model found himself needing to ask one more thing. “Ok. Weirdly enough, that does make it a pretty easy choice. But like...does he ever notice, then? How are things with Cav where you're from?”

The guest shifted and let his eyes drift vaguely. “Ehhhh...I'm not at liberty to say. I just wanted to save me a couple years of self-doubt and pin-pointing motivations. I don't wanna potentially mess anything up.”

Two pairs of eyes widened again to hear this Dakota was from so far out. It seemed the death toll really was going to become a lasting problem!

Future Dakota just gave a wistful smile. Almost sad. “Just trust me, though. He's worth it.” Seemingly catching himself, he perked back up and gave himself his own trademark shrug. “Besides, whaddya gonna do, _not_ save him? He's Cavendish!”

Blinking, the other two then relented with nods and sighs. The cliffside Dakota glanced at the one with the mustache. “Can I come bunk with you after I figure out how to prevent this..?” Obviously it was about to become his turn to be another Past Dakota.

“Ehn. Why not? We can figure out some fun stuff to do with _your_ hair next.”

Confident that he'd accomplished his goal, Future Dakota lifted a hand as he turned back for the wall, ready to open a return time portal. “Cool, sounds like you're already good with plans. Just remember, don't stick around too long. And don't keep the time cars. Somebody's gonna notice the duplicate plates sooner or later. Now, I really gotta get back. No way I'm missing out on churros.”

“Oo...lucky.” The other two lifted their hands in an equally casual farewell, and once the visitor was gone, the present Dakota gave another sigh. “Well, I guess I'd better get to work. Talk later?”

Past Dakota nodded, and gave a two-finger salute off his forehead before ending the call.

Present Dakota just put his handheld away and looked to the dangling rope that had previously held his friend, looking for a cause to the snap.

In the end, Dakota ended up just buying a new harness altogether before jumping back, finding himself walking with Cavendish to enter the forest park their task was set in. Cavendish was fussing, demanding to know who the person even _was_ whose face they were preserving. While the new Past Dakota rolled his eyes at the whining and informed that it was just some cliff that managed to erode like a face, and that Mr. Block was a fan of the novelty, the new Present Dakota chucked a pinecone at himself to get his attention. He caught himself up to speed, switched places, and stole Cavendish's gear to replace, leaving the faulty equipment to his departing clone to dispose of.

Then he insisted on tethering Cavendish to himself as a bonus measure once they were set to begin, and this time opted to be the one tackling the lower portion of the monument. That way he'd have a better chance of catching the other if he still happened to fall again.

This time around, things were a lot more pleasant. Dakota was keeping an eye out for the other, sure, but he wasn't grim about it. Instead he chose to make the most of his job, taking the opportunity to joke around and pretend he was something stuck in the monument's eye, or a living booger hanging out of its nose.

Cavendish wasn't amused. “Snot is not opposable,” he nitpicked the man upside down beside him, “Why are you making vampire fingers?”

“It's scary..!” Dakota insisted, “Wouldn't you be terrified if your boogers came to life? Oooo, I'm going to sliiiiime youuuuu~..!” He pushed his arms out to tickle his 'vampire fingers' at Cav's face.

A grunt. “It's not slime, it is a protective mucus..! And quite beneficial, at that.”

Not swayed, Dakota renewed his teasing and danced his fingers in the other man's face all the more. “So I'm going to protectively muuuucuuuus youuuuu~..!”

Another annoyed sound as the ginger swatted the hands away. “I fail to see the horror in bodily excretions. Now get out of that divot before you break something.”

Ahh, was there anything more satisfying than pushing Cav's buttons? Well, yes, it was best when he was playing along, but this was a pretty good second best. Dakota snorted. “It's a giant rock, I don't think it's goin' anywhere.” Nevertheless, he shimmied himself out of the nostril-like nook. “Anyway, weren't you supposed to be _fan_ of horror? You should like a little creature feature action. Or are you just too into pouting today?”

Cavendish frowned. “This is a _mission!_ ” Of course he didn't feel like playing! “I should think you could recognize what a _stupid_ one it is, though!”

Dakota lifted his hands carelessly. “Isn't that all the more reason to not treat it so seriously?”

“That isn't how it works! We have to prove ourselves and move _up!_ Ohhh..! I want our weapon privileges back..!” Elbows going out, Cavendish motioned a leg as though wanting to stomp on ground that wasn't there.

“Pouty day. Got it,” Dakota nodded with a smile. “Remind me to warm you up a bottle when we get home.”

Naturally this did nothing to lighten Cavendish's mood. While he appreciated that Dakota wasn't treating him any differently after learning about his prestigious background close to royalty, he still wasn't a fan of this overly flippant attitude. Did Dakota not grasp what the agency meant to him? How he wanted to follow his idol?

Noting the sulk, Dakota registered that it was time to cut some slack. “Weapons would be cool to have again, I'll give you that. But for now, this is what we got.” From the janitorial caddy they had along with them on their ropes, he pulled out a couple of scrub brushes. “But that doesn't mean we can't still have fun. Look at me, I'm a _ninja_ janitor.” He posed a few times like his brushes were some kind of sanitizing tonfa. Then he attacked the rock with them, scrubbing vigorously. “I purge this nose of its evil unclean snot monsters! Which was also me, so y'know...got some conflicting heroic character emotions goin' on there.” Another easy shrug.

Cavendish recognized that there was just no communicating with the other right now and let a stream of air out of his nose at the immaturity. Instead he closed the matter and turned away to focus on doing this horribly unimportant task right. He blinked spying a crack in the side of the hole Dakota had been in. He'd known it! Something was coming loose thanks to all that squirming!

Reaching for it, Cavendish attempted to move the chunk that looked loose, to put it back into place and close the seam. It jiggled, but then got stuck. Redoubling his efforts, Cavendish jimmied the out-of-place bit. Finally, with a forceful push, it slid home, neatly aligning back where it belonged.

The Brit smiled proudly for a second, before noting a tiny tremor going through his entire body. It was getting stronger. His lower eyelids lifted in concern. “Dakota...do you feel that?”

His partner paused like testing his senses, then glanced up. “Uh...oh...” A sprinkle of dirt was just coming over the lip of the cliff, soon followed by a few pebbles. Then all at once a slide of larger stones began spilling down over the men and their mission.

They screamed as both their supports were snapped this time, hurling groundward on a ride of jostling boulders.

“Avalaaaanche!!” Dakota yelled.

“I can _see_ that!” Cavendish shouted back, “Who are you yelling that for?!”

Dakota just screamed some more as their plummet turned into more of a swing. Apparently one of their ropes was still tethered somewhere, because as the treeline approached the two began listing to the right.

Using the tether Dakota had linked him with, Cavendish tugged himself closer to the other and clung around his waist out of survival instinct, joining in the continued screaming.

They both were scraped and battered by endless pine needles and whipping branches through the descent. Despite the avalanche's speed, their momentum somehow managed to keep them ahead of the massive rocks chasing them. The pulley carrying them was running out of rope, however, and slipped off once it had. On the plus side, the pair now only had about half the forest's height to fall.

The avalanche slowed, but so did they. Beneath them, they saw a stretch of fine earth stretching forward, and this is what they collapsed into. Miraculously, the very avalanche that had threatened them ended up being what broke their fall. The two men tumbled off the end of the disastrous slide as it came to a rest, coming to a dizzy rest themselves as they were knocked apart and landed on their rears, still next to each other. A bird's nest was atop Cavendish's head and he spat out a mouthful of foliage.

Eyes rolling in what felt like circles, Cavendish and Dakota both had to shake their heads to find their bearings. The first thing Cavendish did was send Dakota a glower and fold his arms. “This is all _your_ fault.”

“ _My_ fault?!” Was Cavendish seriously going there again?

The incredulous echo was cut off from answer by several small furry heads peeking at once from the confines of Dakota's jacket. That was enough to distract him and he beamed. “Hey, look! At least we saved all these guys from getting crushed..!” He opened his jacket and let a half dozen chipmunks scamper out. “There ya go, big fellas, safe and sound now.” They looked around in a bit of confusion.

Gently removing the nest from his head, Cavendish felt his hackles lower as he observed the small chirping bluebirds inside. “Yes, well...” As much as it would have been nice to not experience an avalanche at all, he supposed saving lives from it counted for something.

Just then a snake slithered out of his sleeve. Its tongue flickered for his cheek.

“D'yaaaaah!!” Startled, Cavendish fell back. Instinctually, he still held the nest aloft, but his own head hit the ground sharply. He groaned, dazed, as the snake slipped out from his clothing and headed off back into the woods.

Dakota laughed. “Hey, I think he liked you..!”

Cavendish didn't appreciate the commentary, sitting back up with a grunt and pulling his collar out to check his body for any more unexpected hitchhikers. Luckily, he didn't seem to find any.

Carefully, both men stood and dusted themselves a bit. Dakota watched as Cavendish looked around with equal care before heading to a selected tree and reaching to climb it, nest held in one hand while the other hoisted him.

A smile found Dakota. Yup, for as fussy and accusatory as Cav was, he just couldn't help prioritizing the right thing. He was a good guy. The afroed man had to marvel some, too. Even after something that easily _could_ have killed him – For that matter, how had this _not_ resulted in death while a mere rope snap had claimed him previously? Crazy. - Cavendish was all set to shake the harrowing experience off and push forward for himself, as ever. Dakota doubted that would ever stop being admirable.

Once high enough in the tree, Cavendish gingerly placed the nest in the spot he'd seen as safest and secured it with the extra help of some of the foliage that had clung to him during the spill. With that accomplished, he allowed himself one small soft beam at the frantic infants inside. “There, there, not to worry. Your mother will find you soon enough. You haven't gone that far.” He knew their caretaker would be confused at first, but mother birds were smarter than given credit for. It was best to leave the nest in as close as a condition as it had been found.

Obviously the little birds couldn't understand the man that had brought them to safety, but somehow they did seem to calm down a bit. Enough for Cavendish to begin his journey back down.

Admittedly, this was a bit more difficult. It was harder to see where he was going, and well, he didn't have such an important goal as he had going up. He tended to lose himself when focused on helping others.

As such, getting back down the tree was clumsier, the Brit even having to hug the trunk for a short slide, and then he made the mistake of holding too thin a branch as he stretched for a branch too low. It snapped.

The startled noise he made this time was cut short, however, as he found himself landing far less painfully than expected. Opening his eyes, he found that he'd been caught by his partner, who was giving him one of those cheesy grins.

“Thought something like that might happen,” Dakota chided. For some reason, he was starting to think Cavendish's parents were right to have someone watching the accident-prone one, at least when he was being adventurous. “Nice job, nature scout.”

“Hmph.” Cavendish's brow was cross, and in response he simply stood himself upright from Dakota's arms, straightened his shirt and gave a curt, “Thank you.”

Dakota rolled his eyes, but with some fondness. “Yeah, you're welcome.” Still as _proud_ as ever, too, Cav was. Now wandering over to a clearing that opened into a small elevation that was a viewing station, Dakota noted, “So uhhh...yeah. Don't think we're gettin' any promotions over this one, either.”

Now the taller man's brow betrayed some worry. Arms folded behind his back, he stepped over to see what had been meant by that. To his dismay, he found the entire monument now no longer resembled a face...but a gargantuan posterior.

“Oh, for Heaven's sake!” Cavendish hunched indignantly before promptly slapping a hand over his eyes out of modesty. Of all the juvenile-!

Turning to the taller man, endeared by how he couldn't even look at a rock's crack without being a gentleman, Dakota still couldn't help himself. “I guess you could say we coulda done some things better in _hind_ sight. Eh..? Eh..? See, because now it's a giant--”

“ _I get it.”_

Of course, this utter failure resulted in another disgraceful post-mission report. Mr. Block was not happy to learn that _they_ were the ones responsible for defacing the monument and turning it into a public laughingstock. Luckily, this time, Cavendish seemed to have changed his mind about trying to accuse Dakota for being problematic with his goofing about.

There was no apology, nor even bringing the topic back up, but there was a despondent sigh when the call with the pair's boss had ended. The Brit noted that they had done everything right, but everything had still gone wrong. However, they'd also seen that they could still do the things that counted right, even if Mr. Block didn't acknowledge protecting woodland critters as a positive sidenote, and so only resolved to make that sort of thing their main objective. The duo could _handle_ missions involving saving lives if only they'd be given the chance!

Dakota liked this attitude. He liked that Cavendish acknowledged there was no real blame here. They'd get it right eventually, he was sure, so it was better to just not lose hope. This was also more like the Cavendish that had taken responsibility for ruining the kitchen, and the Cavendish that had earned some attention from Dakota's soft side. That's why Dakota found it so easy to suggest they go shake off their failure with a round of bowling. They could fail a million more times for all he cared. So long as they did what was right when it really mattered. So long as they could fail together.

Something that was nagging Dakota to rush, however, was his feelings. Something about _knowing_ Cavendish was going to just...die made him feel pressured to bring up his attraction. Like there was some sort of urgency because he didn't know how long he was going to get with the older man. Future Dakota's words had been so cryptic. He'd specifically avoided giving away any details about their future with Cavendish.

Did that mean he _had_ confessed by that point? But if so, at _what_ point? And how well was it received? Was that what made Cav “worth it”..? But at the same time, _this_ relationship with Cav seemed pretty worth it, and Dakota did _not_ want to spoil their future. So in the end it might have been best to just keep letting things progress naturally. He wanted to get this _right._

As well, it seemed best to continue not letting his partner know how about his fates. There was no way that would do anything but stress him out and hurt his confidence. Anyone would react that way. He might never take a risk again..! And then how would Dakota get him to play with him?

Nah, for now, it was best to just not worry about any of it. Future Dakota was clearly a smart guy.


	7. Chapter 7

One thing about Future Dakota became relatable amazingly quickly. It took shockingly few deaths to find the repetitiveness of them tedious.

Cavendish did survive the next few missions, though they were still failures, but as Dakota had been warned, it wasn't just missions he had to be wary of.

The next time Cavendish died was actually because he'd acquired what he'd thought was a sparkler at a festival the two were visiting, but it turned out to be a much more powerful firework. Dakota had jerked to attention to notice, but was not in time to stop the fiery fatal result.

Another time he'd been swarmed by jellies while frolicking at the seaside. Then another instance saw a plastic bag slapping itself over his face in the wind and smothering him. Yet another had him catching his scarf in a ski lift and being hanged.

By this death, Dakota had come to accept that this was just going to be part of the routine. As such, there was no real need to get worked up. He knew he was going to fix it. He'd come to stop worrying about that, too. He knew he couldn't let these deaths be permanent, no matter what. The only problem there was that his conference calls with his other selves were getting a little crowded. They all had the same number, and all wanted to be kept in the loop, and talking over one another was a bit raucous. Dakota had to take the calls in private now.

Missions still proved deadly now and again, however. There was a nautical one where Cavendish managed to be struck by a cannonball. Another where he was lanced by a jagged piece of crumbling scaffolding – that one did make Dakota wince just by how painfully unpleasant it looked.

One saw the two on top of a semi-truck, tailing another, and a low-hanging sign threatened to send the duo flying. Dakota had yelled “DUCK!” and done so himself, but Cavendish had merely glanced at him with a quizzical “Hm..?” as though he hadn't registered the warning's intent. He was promptly smacked by the sign full-force, and Dakota turned to watch him free-wheeling across the pavement behind him before collapsing into a mangled heap.

Dakota had sighed; Cavendish really could be clueless sometimes. But then the Italian also couldn't help a tiny smirk and shaking his head to himself fondly. It was stupid, but in a way that persistent naivety was endearing. Half these deaths were pure accident and not the redhead's fault at all, but Cavendish still might not have been the most aware and missed many a point. But bless his heart, he tried. All for the greater good. All for his dream. How could Dakota not want to protect that?

So, he'd simply done another reset, this time changing his words to “GET _DOWN!_ ” and shoving the back of Cav's head for good measure.

Cavendish noticed his partner had started taking more unexplained absences. When asked about them, however, Dakota simply shrugged and had some new excuse every time. And if Cavendish asked to come along on the supposed excursions he was making, Dakota insisted that Cav wouldn't want to, or that it was Dakota's “Me Time”.

Since when had the man _ever_ needed “Me Time”? He thrived on social proximity. Particularly Cavendish's. Even if they weren't doing something together, Dakota liked being _near_ him. It was highly suspicious. He suspected he was being blown off.

As well, Cavendish was starting to suspect that Dakota was not ever going to gain a properly responsible mind about his job. They'd established a routine, that being to get the assignment, fail it spectacularly, get chewed out and then immediately go and do something frivolous to put the chewing out out of mind. While Cavendish enjoyed his outings with Dakota, he couldn't help sense a lack of actual investment in the work they were supposed to be doing.

Well, he still couldn't hate the man.

It had to be admitted that being out with Dakota _did_ make Cavendish feel better about whatever undignified way he'd failed on a given day. Even having an accident _while_ out with him wasn't so bad, for as ever, despite any laughter or hazing, and for as grouchy as Cavendish would get about it, it was still friendly at heart. The thin man still had no idea how such unrelenting ribbing could hold such a pleasant tone, nor how despite his seeming decline in interest in being around him, Dakota could feel so natural and welcoming and permanent when he _was_ with him.

This was an entirely new form of bond for the taller party. This must have truly been what a real companion was like. Even if he was a ninny who could never be completely serious about anything. That feeling was what made him want to stay in spite of all their failures.

Dakota was just happy to have Cavendish be so comfortable around him. They now talked about anything and everything without need for a lead-up, or even a need to look up from what they were doing. The way he saw it, things were going great. They'd gotten so used to each other, in and out of missions, and had such a familiar routine. It felt almost like they were married. And didn't that little imagine spot give him butterflies? He had to start wondering if Cav was feeling anything even close to what he was.

Sooner than expected, he would find that subject brought up in a way he never could have predicted. It was during the pair's next mission, and it turned out to be more flooring than any death yet.

The two agents were tailing their latest target – a man in a dark coat and hat – on foot as he walked through the city streets of early twentieth century East Coast America. The whole setting had Cavendish feeling “espionage-y”, and he'd been acting like the star in one of their spy films for the entire mission so far, positively giddy to be doing some real live tailing. He hid in poses behind fruit stands or around alley corners, every movement exaggerated as they followed their mark down the brightly-lit mid-day street.

Dakota followed much more leisurely, but was happy to be entertained by Cavendish's heroic antics, provide commentary, and offer to provide a theme song. The redhead surprised him by straightening politely and readily but graciously accepting the offer with an, “Oh; please..!”

So that's what Dakota did.

With Cavendish back in character and Dakota providing questionably-mimicked instrumentals, the two followed the man in the dark coat until quite suddenly, he turned back to scan his surroundings.

The agents were across the street, but there was no cover here.

“Quickly, Dakota!” Cavendish exclaimed readily, “We must make ourselves inconspicuous!”

The short Italian barely had time to register that sentence before Cavendish's own plan was enacted. And that plan involved grabbing Dakota by the cheeks and pulling him into a hearty kiss.

Kiss... _KISS!!_

__

In one second, Dakota had lost all brain functionality and become frozen, his eyes bulging at the closed ones mere millimeters from his. He felt an unprecedented eruption in his chest, torrid yet icy, full of paralyzing tingles, and that wave splashed right up to his cheeks and up to the top of his head. It also fell low into his gut like the bottom dropped out of a barrel. He only felt warmer when Cavendish shifted to hold him properly with one arm looped around the base of his spine, the other delicately gracing the back of his neck.

The duration of this had to have only taken around ten seconds, but it felt as frozen as Dakota's muscles.

Cavendish peeked out from under one eyelid, off sideways in the direction of the mission's mark. His back was to them and he was walking once more. In a flash, Cavendish had dropped Dakota and turned around himself with that eager sparkle back in his eye, seemingly oblivious to any effect his actions might have had. “He's on the move! Back after him! Hurry!” And he scampered off in pursuit.

Dakota had not realized he'd lost all strength to support himself until he was let go, at which point he collapsed heavily onto his rear end, slumping with his knees splayed in front of him and his arms limply on the ground. He still wasn't processing much in the way of coherent thought, however.

"Aaagah...huaaaaa...gagaga..."

These stunned gibberish sounds were about all he could manage as he failed to fully process the sheer levels of shocked arousal he'd just been made to experience.

_What_ had _that_ been?! Why in the _world_ had Cavendish just _kissed_ him out of completely nowhere?! Was he supposed to be in on whatever this was? Was he supposed to be ok with it?

Whatever he was feeling right now, he was not ok with. _Never_ had a kiss made him feel something this strong. He'd heard the phrase 'seeing stars', but only now did he truly understand what it meant. Only now did he remember to breathe. And blink. He registered his heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Ugh, this couldn't be ok, could it? Apparently he was really, _really_ into Cav. Far more than he had been able to gauge. That was scary. Even if caught off-guard, a kiss shouldn't be able to _neutralize_ him! And what gave Cavendish the right to pull something like that anyway? He had some things to answer for!

Finally, as his caramelized zombie state slowly ebbed, Dakota noticed one last lingering effect left on his body. He blushed anew to find the prominent tent bared to the world between his sprawling limbs.

Embarrassment now his motivator, he hastily covered that with a shirt hem yanked down by both hands, and managing to find some strength, stood and ran off in the opposite direction of his partner.

Cavendish had been following the target for a good few minutes, all the way to his destination, before turning to instruct Dakota on what to do next and realizing that he wasn't there. Instead, he blinked, then pressing his arms by his sides in an indignant huff. That nitwit! What snack or sparkly window display had gone and distracted his focus this time?

Forgetting the man he was supposed to be intercepting, Cavendish abandoned his mission in favor of briskly marching a re-trace of his steps. He did find Dakota, who appeared to be returning from somewhere himself, glancing over his shoulder in uncharacteristic timidity. He also tensed to find Cavendish coming back for him. A guilty reaction, no doubt!

“Where did you go?!” the Brit scolded with folded arms as the two met face-to-face, “I was about to have him..! I was in need of your assistance..!”

Flustered, Dakota was sure it wasn't natural to be this uncertain around a person. "Yeah, I had a bit of an emergency. I needed to..." He glanced away briefly. "...pee."

Cavendish's head went back and a brow quirked. “Now? Shouldn't you have relieved yourself _before_ something as important as a mission? Try to plan ahead, man!”

Feeling an irate spike there, Dakota countered more confidently, “Yeah, well how am I supposed to do that when you're just gonna spring stuff like the Random Kiss Plan on me! I mean what the heck _was_ that?!”

A frown from the lanky one. “That is a professional maneuver they do in all the spy movies!” he professed like it should have been obvious, “Instantly discreet! Surely you should have recognized the cue. You have no sense of personal space, as well, so it should have been perfect for the scenario..!”

Wha...that had just been part of the game? Dakota didn't even know what to feel right now. Partly insulted, partly disappointed was a good place to start. Frustration was in his voice as he shot back, “This isn't a _movie,_ Cav..! You randomly kiss someone out here, all it is is shocking! How would you like it if I just did that to you out of nowhere when _you're_ not expecting it?”

Just as crossly, Cavendish insisted, “I thought you were onboard with the setting..! You've never protested to acting out the part in previous improvisational moments..! Usually you're _leading_ them!”

“You've never _kissed_ me before!” Dakota exclaimed incredulously. How was Cavendish not seeing the issue here?! “I'll show _you_ how that feels when you don't ask for it, uh?”

Before he'd even registered doing it, he'd gruffly snatched his hands around the back of Cavendish's head and yanked him into an unwarranted kiss of his own. Oh god, why had he done that? Under the upset, that weakness and all of those flurrying feelings were just coming back to him now. Cavendish's lips were so soft and intoxicating...

Almost gladly, Cavendish predictably stiffened with indignance and swatted Dakota's arms away. “Stop that!” the taller man complained, “That was completely uncalled for!”

“Hypocrite!” Dakota accused with a pointed finger, “Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite!”

A grunt. “Yes, _alright!_ You've made your point. I apologize for getting swept up in the moment..!” At this point he just wanted to turn the heckling off, though he did understand that perhaps he'd overstepped his boundaries. It was easy to forget Dakota had them sometimes.

Seeing that Cavendish at the very least admitted he'd done something wrong, Dakota could ease up. “Fine. Just...don't kiss me unless you mean it. 'Cause I can't handle it otherwise.” Good lord, his innards were dancing a mambo. Unable to handle this didn't even begin to cover it.

A blink now, perplexed. Unless he meant it..? What on Earth was that supposed to mean?

Strained now, Dakota informed, “Also I need to go...pee again.” Hunching, he turned from the other and swiftly strode back in the direction he'd come from.

Utterly confused now, Cavendish just called after him, “I demand to know whatever it is you're drinking before these missions, because whatever it is...you're forbidden from doing so anymore!”

Naturally, this mission became their newest bust. They'd spent so long bickering that their target had had ample time to complete his transaction, and so the owner of Mr. Block's favorite radio station ended up selling his business after all. However, neither man seemed to be paying attention today as they were berated for their lackluster performance. There was a strange new tension in the air between them. A heavy and unpleasant one.

Cavendish felt like he'd truly overstepped, more than he'd realized. Dakota was never this quiet. Guilt settled in hard inside Cavendish's stomach as his actions caught up with him. In retrospect, he really had gotten carried away acting like some super suave secret agent. He was known to get carried away from time to time, but never had he offended a dear friend like this in doing so. He had to make things right.

This time when Dakota stepped out for one of his mysterious excursions, Cavendish let him go without complaint. It was probably for the best anyway to have some time apart to air out, but while the man was gone, he could have the time to figure out something nice to do for the other.

He didn't have a ton of time, but eyes lighting on the kitchen, he felt inspiration. Dakota liked food, so surely making something for him was a good place to start. Flipping through a cookbook frantically, he tried to find the right idea.

Bah! None of them seemed fitting. Then it occurred to him why. None of the options here were personal enough. Snapping the book closed, he sharply decided to be more resourceful than that. He was going to use a recipe from his own heart. He'd trained enough to have more than a few.

Dakota would return home after dusk, having settled down his duplicates after they'd heard about the incident and feeling like he'd worked through the strain of things well enough to move on. It was ok. Cavendish had just fallen too far into one of his fantasies. He definitely didn't know what he'd been doing to his partner and he surely didn't harbor any significant feelings because of this.

However, upon opening the door, the distracting immediate scent of remnant cooking met his nose. There was a warmth of loving preparation in the air. However, the one who had done the preparing was reclined flatly in bed, fast asleep in an unusually undignified pose for Cavendish, white dust on his fingertips. Had he been waiting up? Looked like he hadn't made it.

Beside him, resting on Dakota's pillow since he hadn't been able to hand it over in person, was a dish containing a plethora of handmade chocolates. There was a selection of different drizzles on the tops to signify there were varied types, not that Dakota knew how to identify them. He could tell some had nuts, though. There was also an arrangement of carved cheese wedges in the shape of a flower in one corner of the bowl with a small card beside it reading, “With Deepest Regrets” in the finest calligraphy.

Dakota was speechless. He hadn't expected _anything_ like this. Maybe a proper apology the next day, but...wow! Holding the bowl and ogling each part of the arrangement over and over, he was actually speechless. Cavendish really did care about him and his feelings. Whether or not he knew exactly what _kind_ of feelings he was dealing with was still up for debate, but to toil away to get a gift like this prepared in time for Dakota's return...he definitely cared. And Dakota couldn't say it didn't feel special to get candy and a flower from his partner. Even if it was cheese. But Dakota loved cheese. So that worked out great.

Munching on one of the confections, the brunette also had to admit that Cav was one heck of a candyman. All those fancy pre-school cooking lessons had paid off. Looking into the kitchen, Dakota was then dismayed to find that it was spotless. He couldn't even clean up after the man to show gratitude.

He was kind of glad Cav was asleep. Even if he was apologizing, the man no doubt would have jested about Dakota having nothing to say for once in his life. Though in another way, that might have been welcome. Just standing there feeling useless and fuzzy, Dakota smiled at the man in bed, watching his lips move vaguely as he spoke to someone in his slumber. That's when the idea struck. If nothing else, Dakota could get his partner cleaned up and actually ready for bed.

So, tossing a couple more treats into his mouth – those things were _really_ good – the afroed man went to fetch a washcloth. He took Cavendish's glasses off and carefully began to scrub the few spots of chocolate ingredients off of the ginger's face before picking up a hand and starting on that.

“Oh, Hildegard..! Awfully forward of you, my dear...” A stronger mumble as Dakota rolled the cloth around one of Cav's knuckles. He paused in chewing and flicked his eyes for the sleeping man's face, a sting of tension running through his gut. It was a Hildegard dream.

He and his duplicates had speculated wildly on what they meant to Cavendish. Whether or not he'd even thought anything of the kiss. What he might act like if he _really_ wanted to kiss Dakota.

Normally this was something Dakota did for kicks, merely to mess with the other man, but now he felt the temptation. A strong compulsion to find out the answers, but an equally strong pull telling him it was wrong and he knew it. He could just do it when Cav was awake, right? When he was...fully free to deny everything.

He found his mouth opening. “Cav...” A quick clear of his throat as he tried to correct his voice into sounding less grizzly. As well, he should know better than to call the other that. How many times had he heard dreams like this play out by now? “Why, Balthazar, you act as though you've never been kissed before, hand or no.” The washcloth played over another spot on Cavendish's hand, up more towards his wrist.

It left an exciting sort of tingle on Dakota's lips to use his partner's first name in this context. They didn't need to use them, and were so used to last names it hardly mattered, but...it just felt special.

Another bashful sort of titter escaped the man in Dreamland. “Don't be saucy, Hildegard..! Of course I have been...but a gentleman never kisses and tells..!”

Dakota shifted his hand to hold Cavendish's more intimately. “You can tell me...” he pried gently, trying to ignore the weak squeeze the older man gave his palm in turn, “Go on...when was your last kiss?”

Cavendish's brow knitted in his sleep, and his nose gave a cute little twitch as he seemed to process this request. Luckily, it seemed reality was working with Dakota in this matter and the other man mumbled, “Oh, uh...it appears it was just today, in fact...I seem to recall kissing my best friend...don't think that means I'm any less interested, of course..! I'm no rover..!”

Ignoring the insistence on fidelity, Dakota leaned in, kneading his thumb gingerly over the back of Cavendish's hand. Best friend..? He was really considered so close? He also ignored a stronger pang of guilt. “Never mind that...how was it?”

A more confused knit in Cavendish's brow. “Beg your pardon..?”

“That kiss...with him...did you like it?”

“Uh...I don't recall. I wasn't...thinking about it particularly at the time...”

Dakota's heart sank a bit there. He knew it.

Cavendish's sentence wasn't done yet though. “But I suppose it was...nice...he feels a bit gruff, but then mostly like a warm teddy...by the way, have I introduced you to Dennis yet..? He's over there, having tea with the Arch Duke...” The Brit's other hand wafted lazily towards a crack in the wall.

That first part sent a fresh spark through Dakota's heart. The other had made note of how he felt? Surely that could be counted as a sign of hope. Come on, Cav, stay on topic, Dakota then pleaded silently. “Do you, um...'fancy' him at all?” he pried farther, having to think to recall a posh word for liking someone. “He might like you...a _lot_...and want to know if it's safe to this much...”

Cavendish made a strange sort of confused snuffling noise. “The Arch Duke..? Heavens no, of course not, my dear..! I'm over here talking with you, aren't I..?”

“No, not..!” Dakota made a strained sound, suppressing his frustration and growing need to get to the bottom of this. With another clear of his throat he pressed, “Your friend..! Is it possible that you could see yourself having feelings for your friend?”

“My dear Hildegard, what has gotten into you..?” Cavendish just sounded concerned now, “You're practically in hysterics..!”

Yikes. It didn't look like Dakota's tension was translating well. Trying again, he hushed, “I just want to know because...uh...because...” Welp, he was stumped.

A feeble, dreamy chuckle as Cavendish's other hand came to light on Dakota's. “It's alright, dearest. If you're jealous, I can put those fears to rest right now. Shall I tell you how much better you kiss..?”

Dakota was stunned again as Cavendish pulled him ever closer by his hand, gallantly puckering in expectation. He wanted to do it, sure. He could have at least one answer. He could feel what it was like when Cavendish was properly after a kiss.

But then...no. What was he even doing?

Crushing his eyes shut and letting out a sigh through his nose, Dakota finally let his conscience have its say. This was ridiculous. He couldn't even be sure he was getting any _real_ answers when the man before him was also seeing living teddy bears. Besides that, if he really wanted to earn Cavendish's affection, this was not the way to do it. If Cav knew he was doing this, that would be all of his trust gone right out the window in an instant. And after he'd made such a heartfelt, loving arrangement of goodies as an apology for _Dakota_. This was no way to repay that.

No, if he wanted answers, if he wanted to find out if he could be worth such special attention in Cavendish's eyes, he was going to have to do it in the real world. He was, sadly, not in Cavendish's dreams.

“Sorry, Cav...” he mumbled gravely, gently pulling his hand away and standing back up. “Maybe someday.”

A confused and sad note left Cavendish's nose as the other pulled away. He missed the contact, but as well...was that not Hildegard's voice..? He reached out forlorn for a moment before twin fists fell heavily to the sheets as he muttered, “Oh, fiddle-faddle and fannies.”

Dakota couldn't help a minute snort seeing the other get huffy after his rejection. Admittedly, adorable.

Not wasting any more time pining, however, Dakota took his goodies to the fridge before getting ready for bed himself. He spot-cleaned his partner properly before draping his blanket over him, then taking his own blanket and settling in on his side of the couch-bed. With any luck, his dreams would help him get his head on straight.

Still, Dakota was seriously starting to get jealous of 'Hildegard'.


	8. Chapter 8

Cavendish would awake to first be dismayed finding that he'd fallen asleep in the first place. He supposed he'd put more effort and stress into his gift than he realized. Then he puzzled for a moment to get the sense that his dreams had been a tad off-kilter, though unable to place exactly why. Lastly, he barely got the chance to dwell on that because as consciousness came fully, he registered Dakota had invaded his side of the bed and was tangled around him like a drowsy octopus. Cavendish frowned.

It wasn't entirely unusual to find a stray limb wandering over to his side every now and then, and as time went on Dakota seemed more and more prone to full-on sleep cuddling, for whatever reason, but this was the worst case so far that the Brit had seen. It was a strange habit anyway.

Trying not to be too miffed, as it was still uncertain where the tension stood between the two of them, Cavendish squirmed to release himself from the man threatening to drool on his shoulder.

“Dakota...” he notified, managing to half sit up and pushing the shorter man with his free arm, “Dakota, wake up..! You're pinning me.”

Dakota grumbled and looked annoyed, possibly semi-conscious, and as he was jostled reached behind him in a practiced motion to grab his pillow, swiftly swinging that to whop Cavendish in the face. Then he just relaxed again and slid down Cavendish's front, his cheek now smooshed against the redhead's chest and his jaw slack.

As the pillow fell away, Cavendish sputtered from the impact and let out an irritated groan, now fearing drool stains all the more as his coworker sagged heavily against him. Lazybones! Feeling it was time for drastic measures, he reached a coiled middle finger and thumb for the sleeping man's face and flicked him square between the eyes.

Dakota snorted and his eyes opened fast, quickly replacing startle with irritation. “Hey, what gives..!” he complained before his surroundings came into understanding. “Oh...uh, sorry.” Moving himself, he pushed off of Cavendish and unhooked his legs, taking his limbs back to himself and retreating to his own side of the bed, where he had a nice morning stretch.

Tentatively, the older man ventured, “I hope that your weird clinging habit is an indication that you found your gift..?”

A brow quirked and the frizzy-haired man looked back at the other. “What's weird about cuddling? It's comfy.”

Cavendish's head went back slightly. “Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that it's _us?_ ”

“Ok, so what's wrong with _that?_ C'mon, don't tell me you don't sleep better with another person.”

“I don't cuddle with my friends. It's weird!” The taller man turned his palms up and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. Maybe he couldn't put it perfectly into words, but how could Dakota _not_ find it at least a bit unusual?

Dakota shook his head slightly, not seeing the other's point of view. “How's it different than a friendly arm or so? Y'know, like one-a these.” He formed a fist and lightly chucked Cav's upper arm, “Or like this. You don't mind this.” Scooting back towards the other he draped an arm casually across the Brit's shoulders now. Cuddling was just another friendly gesture, a way to show you were comfy with someone. It didn't _have_ to be romantic...even if he was sure his subconscious was acting on those sorts of feelings without him.

“It just is!” Cavendish bristled, closing off the debate before it took a turn for the ludicrous. Clearly their opinions differed and there were more important matters to focus on. “Anywho, you didn't answer my question!”

“Oh, right, that.” Dakota had gotten sidetracked, hadn't he? “Yeah, I found it.”

“And was it...to your liking?”

In response to the worried lower eyelids raised his way, Dakota let a warm beam slide onto his lips and firmed the arm around his partner. “Yeah. It was great. And yes, I'm gonna go ahead and call us even.” After what he'd been up to under the other's nose, it was really only fair.

As Cavendish relaxed visibly, the smaller man decided to grant, “Honestly, I wasn't expected anything so grand from you about this. Gotta say, you left me a little bit speechless, pal.”

A light hand came to the gentleman's chest. “Speechless? You? Well, I certainly wish I'd managed to stay up to witness _that._ ” His brow quirked and a playful smirk crossed his lips.

“I know, right?” Dakota had to chuckle. He'd known it. Cav was right there with a ready remark. And yes, it was gratifying to receive the hazing comment.

“Myezz...well, while I'm still not wholly sure why that incident offended you while things such as this cuddling habit do not, I am terribly sorry to have offended you at all. Sometimes I do forget that you have your own reservations, and honestly, just thinking about doing that so shamelessly is highly embarrassing in retrospect. I don't know what I was thinking.” Helplessly, he lifted his palms and looked towards the ceiling again, shaking his head.

“It's ok, Cav. Really.” It looked like once his actions had settled in, it dawned on the Brit exactly what he had done wrong, and now he couldn't believe he'd been so lost in his role that he'd broken his own usual standards. Dakota appreciated him voicing his vexation, but found it best if they didn't dwell now that the air was cleared. Pointedly, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood. “That said, time for breakfast. What's your omelet game like, think you could whip up some high-class real food for us?”

Able to detect the jest in the request, but sure it held its own degree of genuine wheedling for more cooking from the taller man, Cavendish hemmed. “Oh, alright...” he relented, deciding to be kind. An omelet was certainly going to be more filling than chocolate and cheese anyway.

Only after reaching for his face to straighten his glasses did Cavendish realize they weren't there. He startled in initial panic for a second before glancing around to find them folded neatly on his nightstand. Come to think, he'd ended up sleeping in his clothes and hadn't managed to wash up before involuntarily passing out last night, but he also found himself spotless as he now looked himself over. Huh. Had Dakota tidied him? That was generous. He must have forgiven the other man after all. It made Cavendish smile slightly to know he'd been looked after, opting not to mention the realization but feeling more willing to prepare breakfast.

As much as Dakota didn't want to dwell, and as smoothly as the first part of the day ended up going, the brunette couldn't help lingering thoughts over one aspect of last night: did he have a shot?

Obviously the kiss that had happened meant nothing, nor did the one offered to Dakota while Cavendish dreamed, but the question Dakota had asked still burned on his tongue. What _did_ he mean to his partner? _Could_ Cavendish see himself having feelings in return?

Not wanting to let this straining curiosity eat at him, and not wanting to find himself repeating such a stupid move as last night, Dakota decided not to waste time in bringing this one up. He only made it until lunch before he had to break.

As the two were seated at their desks, filling out paperwork and simultaneously enjoying some sandwiches, he just bit the bullet and asked bluntly, not even trying for a lead-up, “Cav...would you date me?”

The ginger looked up with a perplexed expression. “What kind of ridiculous notion is that? If this is about our mission, you _know_ that was just for the sake of--”

“No, no, it's nothing to do with that. Forget that ever happened.” Dakota cut off the idea that _that_ had been what was sparking this train of thought. Maybe it was sparking the push to ask, but he wanted to know what Cavendish thought of him without the whole kissing incident. He wanted Cavendish to know that he would still be asking without it. “I mean it, though. Would you?”

One brow lowered quizzically, Cavendish just stared evenly for a moment, really not sure what to make of the inquiry. “Well you're hardly my usual type...” he mumbled off-hand.

“Uh, kinda figured...” Dakota granted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, “But like...despite that. Goin' off how you know me...” Cavendish knew he wasn't really some villainous ruffian. Cavendish saw Dakota for who he was at heart, and now accepted him as easily as Dakota had accepted the Brit. Surely he could answer this question with serious consideration. Surely Dakota earned a few brownie points.

Cavendish still wasn't entirely convinced this line of questioning was entirely unrelated to the kissing incident, and deeply regretted if he'd led the other on. “I haven't meant to mislead you,” he informed, “But putting yesterday aside, as you say, I'm still sorry. I simply do not believe you can be serious about something like that. Not to the degree I generally seek.”

That made Dakota's stomach plummet. Hurriedly, he insisted, “You haven't..! I told you, this is completely unrelated to yesterday, and it's not because of it or anything..! I-I'm _asking_ you as a serious thought. You don't think I'm ugly or anything, right? Would you even consider it?”

The lanky one's gaze swept the other up and down automatically when his looks were mentioned. “I suppose if you were a bit neater...” Ugh, what was he saying? That sort of comment would definitely lead Dakota on. “But regardless of appearance, I'm sorry, I still don't believe our attitudes about such matters would be compatible. You've had quite the decline in interest towards being around me in recent weeks, anyway. I'm sure you would just get bored and wish to end it in just as many.”

A small spark shot through Dakota's heart when he heard he was _potentially_ attractive to the other man, followed by another crushing remark about his investment. He could hardly tell Cavendish he was talking to his other selves created by saving the other. Desperate to prove how serious he was, the Italian let the first serious offer he had blurt its way past his lips. “Would it help if I said I'm pretty sure I love you..?” How much more serious could one get? Surely that would get Cavendish to realize how long he'd been holding onto these thoughts as well.

Cavendish's gaze hardened in disbelief. Dakota was really saying _that_ while trying to make a case for the two of them getting along as a couple? They hadn't _even_ dated and he was saying something so severe? “I do believe that rather proves my point,” he said firmly. This was really looking like a whim Dakota had simply conjured up after an unfortunate mishap. Very immature indeed.

Sensing the prickly aura forming immediately in the air, Dakota just felt another icy sting through his gut. Switching tactics, not wanting Cavendish to close him off, he tried, "Ok, ok, maybe not the best thing I could've said. But then how about this? Um. You mind if I ask you something potentially offensive?"

"Probably."

Dakota could feel himself flustering. "Will you at least promise not to get mad?"

A suspicious squint now. "Mmm...I suppose..."

"Sounds like a maybe to me. Ok well what I wanna know is... _how_ did you survive to thirty-seven?"

Cavendish's eyes widened in affront. "I beg your pardon! Of all the insensitive, implicating inquiries--!"

"Hey, you said you wouldn't get offended..!"

"Well that was before I knew how offensive the question was!"

"Yeah well you still can't get mad because I still didn't technically ask, I just asked if I _could._ "

"Well then, my answer is no!"

This wasn't going well. "C'mon, Cav, I'm serious here. You're so death-- _accident-_ prone, it astounds me. Have you always had someone lookin' out for you, or are you just that resilient that you've survived it all until meeting the more dangerous...dangers time work puts us through?"

Rubbing his temple, Cavendish was just getting exasperated now, hardly having any idea what his partner was babbling about. "I'm sorry, did you say _death_ -prone?"

"Maybe a little bit, almost, but I mean come on, you did almost die out there a few times. You're missing my point." Dakota congratulated himself on the cover-up.

Cross wrists found the redhead's hips. "Oh no, I take your point. You're practically likening me to a toddler or a-a cockroach! Something that needs constant supervision or worse!"

"A-Again, maybe a little, but not in a bad way!"

Cavendish bristled hearing the insult confirmed. "How is that possibly taken in anything _but_ 'a bad way'?!"

"I-I just mean--I'm trying to say--all I meant was that I admire you!"

Cavendish blinked, defused by the compliment but also befuddled. "I beg your pardon? How on Earth--?"

"Y-Yeah." Dakota shrugged a little. "I can't imagine going through all the stuff I've seen you take and managing to stick around this long. You've got so much drive and passion for your job, or just _life._..it's honestly inspiring. Your drive is honestly what gets me motivated in the morning. I know I don't always _look_ motivated, especially when I throw a pillow in your face, but yeah. I just wanted to know how ya did it. Is all." Another meek little shrug as Dakota looked off to the side somewhere. He wasn't sure how to be more sincere than this. Please, let Cavendish see what he saw in him.

This took its time to sink in as the taller one sat stiffly in his chair. As badly-delivered as it had been, the true sentiment of the confession did manage to shine through in the end. It was flattering, and Cavendish had had no idea the other had been thinking along those lines while watching him in the field. And it was appreciated.

In fact, as Cavendish stood evenly, it was that appreciation that prevented him from outright rebuking the man that he had come to think of so fondly. Instead he prayed they could move past this as painlessly as possible. “I'm sorry, Dakota. I'm afraid I just don't see what you're asking coming to pass.”

Walking over to the time phone, he could sense Dakota's hurt and questioning eyes on his back. Steeling himself for the request he was about to make, he opened his eyes when Mr. Block answered and curtly demanded to know what he wanted.

“Yes, hello, sir,” the gentleman spoke with arms neatly folded behind his back, a sure sign of his hidden tension, “I just wished to inform you that I believe Mr. Dakota and I have spent long enough on our training trial together. We've gotten the hang of things quite nicely, and I would like to request moving out on my own. Into my own quarters.”

Dakota felt this icy splash through his entire body. No...no! The last thing he'd wanted to do was chase Cavendish away! Didn't he _like_ living together? It didn't have to be awkward! Why did the taller man have to _leave?!_ Why had Dakota had to have opened his big mouth? Why had he had to fail so spectacularly at getting his feelings across? He could still apologize, right? Undo all of this, convince Cavendish to stay with him and act like nothing had ever been said! Somehow! Anyhow! They could just keep going the way they had been, living as best friends without any stupid attractions getting in the way.

And yet, he could not bring himself to voice any of his thoughts. Each and every one of them stumbled over each other and got caught in a tangle in his throat, leaving him to only watch, helpless, as Mr. Block pointed out that the two of them hadn't even completed a mission successfully. In his eyes that could hardly be considered “getting the hang of things”, but Cavendish merely countered that quartering together was merely about learning to work together as partners, and as far as he was concerned, they'd gotten as far with that as possible.

With a sigh, deciding he didn't care what happened with the worst agents in the Bureau, Mr. Block just waved a dismissive hand and relented to giving Cavendish his own apartment, not wanting to be bothered about this in the future and finding it easier to just grant something so simple. With brief thanks, Cavendish hung up.

“Yeah...that's fair...” was all Dakota found himself able to mumble glumly, now watching the other move towards the door.

“It is for the best,” Cavendish was sure, voice gentle as he paused to pass the stout man a sympathetic glance. This way, Dakota could realize all he was feeling was some silly little crush, an immature whim, and they could return to normal. Clearly living in such close proximity was making them a little _too_ familiar. Cavendish felt like they could use some time separated now as well, and continued to the door. “I'll see you for supper,” he bid farewell, and then was gone.

As soon as that door latched, Dakota felt the tears spring into his eyes and begin leaking freely. It felt so final. Even though Cavendish was coming back...he was still leaving. Dakota had really screwed all of this up. Everything about this was wrong. The wrong time, the wrong words, the wrong _feelings..!_ And he had no idea how to fix it. He wanted to be able to change Cavendish's mind, but after failing so utterly in the first place he didn't even know where to begin.

In the next second, Dakota was sobbing, head down in his arms against his desk as he just felt stupid, lost, useless, and spiteful towards his own emotions. The first true friend he'd made, and he'd gone and destroyed that delicate relationship by going and falling for him. By bumbling his way through a _moronic_ confession like an _idiot!_ Why? Why had he had to do that? Cavendish was the best thing to ever happen to him, whether or not they dated, and he'd had to upset both of their happiness. Now here he was doing something else he'd never done for another: crying. What was it about Balthazar Cavendish that could pull so many of these ridiculous crippling firsts out of him? And why did this one have to hurt so much?

He was helpless here. He needed someone to tell him how to make this better. Why wasn't a future Dakota coming to him _now_ of all times? Where was his assurance that he was going to get through this one, that his feelings were still supposedly worth it in the end? Shouldn't _he_ know how alien and vulnerable it felt to bawl his eyes out over some guy like this?

But of course, this wasn't just some guy. Any version of Dakota would know that as well. And in fact, maybe that visit from Future Dakota had been what had given the present version of him any expectation that things could have gone differently. Whether he had jumped the gun or he would truly never get Cavendish to see his true feelings, somehow he knew he'd taken hope from his future self, and that another visit would likely only leave him with more emotions with potential to influence his actions and make things go wrong. Even hopping back to try and do something like this over was terrifying. Trying to change _anything_ might make things worse. He still had no changes to offer that could make the end result vary. As much as this hurt, Dakota was going to have to get through it alone and accept it. He just wished he hadn't come to like relying on another person so well.

In the end he decided the only thing he could do was keep going. Maybe a better answer would appear later on, but for now...what else was he going to do? He wanted to have his partner's back. He also loved Cavendish enough to not want to lose him, even platonically. And...it was just Cavendish. Dakota couldn't explain it, but something about that fussy Brit just made him want to keep sharing his timestream, keep hoping _something_ in the future would change. Cavendish just radiated something that made Dakota want to protect him, laugh with him, be with him. So really, what was he going to do?

The answer? Not let Cav die.


	9. Chapter 9

Cavendish seated himself quietly on the grand steps of the city library, having considered going in for the isolation it could provide, but preferring to turn his eyes skyward and cloudgaze as he let the thoughts that had been churning filter their way through his mind. It was doubted he'd be able to concentrate on reading anything right now anyway.

Fingertips pressed between his knees but spine slumped, the ginger sighed. Had he decided correctly? It was true by any standards he and Dakota had spent far longer on their trial than any starting agents tended to need, but not all agents chose to separate themselves, and Cavendish had enjoyed being Dakota's roommate.

However...Cavendish also did not think they could recover from such a persistent plea that the pair begin dating. Dakota had appeared nigh desperate to make the taller man give any hint that he would consider him a suitable _romantic_ partner. Honestly, the insist was a little intimidating.

Cavendish hadn't meant to get so defensive over the matter, but he was also left very confused. Dakota claimed he didn't want to date as a direct result of being kissed, and had even found that offensive, but still had no qualms with lesser personal space invasions and apparently wanted to be kissed so long as it was in the context of being a couple. Wasn't that a contradiction? Or at least proof that he only wanted things to escalate after having been kissed? Oh, Cavendish didn't know. He barely even knew how _he_ felt to hear Dakota wanted to date him in the first place.

It had always been hard for Cavendish to break the barrier between platonic interaction and romantic. It was so easy to act properly, put on that polite face and be friendly, and even to pretend one wasn't interested even if someone you were talking to had happened to catch your eye. But to actually make a proper advance? That was always nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching and full of sure thoughts of failure. How Cavendish had ever managed them, he wasn't sure, because the only place he really seemed confident to rehearse was while he slept...although the outcomes still reflected his fears most accurately. His dream dates never did accept.

In the real world, just as shockingly as he'd asked for them, he'd managed some positive responses to dating, and even been asked out himself. However, what he'd found while doing so had always been disheartening. Even if he was found charming and gentlemanly at first, before long his partners with any genuine interest had soon found him to be rather...dorky. They would find out that he was clumsy, collected childish knick-knacks, spoke sharply and without thinking, was both distracted easily and fixated intently on the wrong things, and how he liked to argue, and quite simply would find him too much to handle. In the end he was too childish, too fussy, or both.

Of course, then there were the relationships that had turned out _not_ to be about genuine interest. More than once, Cavendish would be shamed to admit, someone had sought him out to use his position or his family's wealth, and it had taken him far too long to figure any of it out. And every time it had stung.

The worst case had been the first, when in his teenage years, one of the girls he'd grown up with had come to him flirtatiously at a business party and pushed that they sleep together. Cavendish had been flattered but insisted he would rather take her out properly if she was actually interested. She'd pushed and pressured and called him a prude until the Brit reluctantly caved, figuring that if it made her happy it would be worth it in the long run for their relationship.

The relationship lasted until morning, when Cavendish would find himself abandoned, and looking at his phone would reveal the girl had linked him to a page of her bragging on social media to her friends about how she'd fulfilled her dare and successfully gotten “the Cavendish nerd” into bed, and talking about how grossly clingy he was.

Needless to say, that had not done much for Cavendish's hope about relationships to come. He'd just cried.

Every time he'd been with someone, though, he'd always treated it like it was the relationship he was meant to have. He'd always been his most sincere, dreaming of long-lasting happiness and thinking things were going well until the other party admitted they weren't happy or were just done with him.

Dakota...well, Dakota was a nice man, to be sure, but in all honesty Cavendish meant what he'd said in assuming he couldn't hold a serious interest in a relationship with him. In _any_ relationship, really. The man had admitted to flitting between them while discussing his days as a drifter. Cavendish still longed for something permanent and meaningful, even if by this point he'd all but given up on finding true love.

What did Dakota even see in him? Somehow he'd been able to claim he had feelings of love for the older man, and though that rather strongly suggested use of the word had been flippant, since as far as Cavendish assumed the other had only begun having feelings recently, it _did_ suggest a clear attraction.

Cavendish _was_ all of the things his previous partners thought he was, as well. He _was_ a “dork”; he _was_ clumsy; he _was_ proud and demanding and argumentative. And he didn't see anything wrong with that! Shouldn't someone want to open up and show more sides of themselves than the strictly polite one they broadcast when meeting a new face?

Perhaps, but it seemed like Cavendish's faces were too different from one another. He didn't fit in, plain and simple, and it was looking that outside of high society, where most people were obligated to treat him and his accomplishments with some degree of respect, he was a loser to boot. One that he doubted was even deserving of love. He was failing at everything, after all. He wasn't even close to achieving his dream.

Out of nowhere, he heard Dakota's voice in his head, passively saying something along the lines of, “You're still _here,_ aren't you? You still made it.”

Cavendish blinked, wondering if he'd gotten too used to voicing his doubts to the other, only to get such blunt supportive reminders back. It was true, too. Cavendish had gotten _into_ the workplace of his dreams. He still had a chance.

When had simply thinking of Dakota become a comfort? Cavendish had never bothered to note much about the other consciously beyond growing to like him. It was strange to be so extra aware of a floating imagined response like this. He couldn't even say if he'd had them before. It seemed probable.

Imagining the man and considering him comfortable support made Cavendish suddenly recall something else involving a vision of him, flashing back to the previous night. Comfortable...almost like a hug from a warm teddy...he rubbed his temple and furrowed his brow to get visions of his dream last night. It had been another one set in the tea gardens, and Dennis had been there, along with Mr. Block posing as an Arch Duke...and Hildegard.

Ah, yes, it had been one of those dreams, where he continued chasing the hopes of his heart in utter futility. But...something about the way this one ended. He could have sworn something was off. Once refusing his advances this time around, the woman in the dream had suddenly sounded like an entirely different person, even calling him “Cav”. Then when she turned to leave him, she'd...changed.

Cavendish blinked again, realizing her delicate form had morphed in blurry fashion to resemble a back he knew quite well.

Now Cavendish blushed lightly to himself. He couldn't have. There was no _way_ Dakota had slipped into such a dream, however briefly. Fond as he was of the Italian, he couldn't be harboring some desire to give him his own advances. But Dakota hadn't even asked about dating yet.

Yes, the lanky man could admit readily to liking Dakota these days. Call him his closest friend. Call him the only truly close friend he had. But to feel something romantic for him?

Obviously dreams could not be one hundred percent trusted, but remembering this minute detail was sending Cavendish's self-consciousness flurrying, almost like he didn't _want_ to consider the possibility that he could like the other man in such a way.

Dakota was an open buffoon, and loud, and reckless, and liked to butt heads as much as Cavendish, not to mention his short attention span. All things Cavendish had never considered positive traits. But Dakota truly was as comfortable as a stuffed animal to be in company of. He was supportive, cheerful, always ready to cheer someone _else_ up, fun, and completely accepting of all of Cavendish's undesirable traits.

That part was the most amazing. The fact that anyone could actually _like_ Cavendish for who he was, even after getting to see all of his clumsy, fussy sides. Perhaps Cavendish needed to be around someone so laid-back and carefree. Someone who needed a good nagging every now and then but still was so kind and caring at heart. Someone who wanted to root for him and see him happy.

The Brit felt his cheeks warm further as he picked at his knee and realized that if he did think seriously about it, he _could_ potentially see a will to date his partner forming...but wasn't that all the more reason to push him away?

Trying to be a couple would only get both of them hurt. That had been his knee-jerk intuition and he was sure it was still correct. There was no saying how well their tolerances would shift if the relationship shifted. Either one could end up finding the other insufferable. Dakota was so different to anyone Cavendish had ever tried to date before, and they already both had so many complaints to share with one another. He didn't want to be the one to have to crush the other party's hopes if things were assumed to be fine.

But as well, Cavendish assumed it was far more likely that Dakota was incapable of a full-time commitment. The most likely situation was that Cavendish would find the other man losing interest after a month or two and then getting over his latest infatuation, wanting out and leaving Cavendish the crushed one yet again. Then their friendship would be ruined even further and there would likely be no hope of salvaging it.

Here, there was still something to salvage. If they didn't start trying to cross that line, there would be no going too far over it to turn back. And there was no reason to nurse feelings of fondness to begin with.

No, this was still the best course of action. Dakota had been the best thing to happen to Cavendish that he could recall. He shouldn't throw that away by allowing this whim to blossom. He was looking out for Dakota's feelings by making the move to live separately, just like he looked out for the man's health in other areas. After some time apart, Dakota would see how silly he'd been and they could carry on without any further complications. He would see that he was probably only fixating on Cavendish because he was around all the time, and with his freedom he might even find someone who could _really_ fill his needs.

Likewise, Cavendish might do the same. He was not actively looking, and he wasn't sure how to go about meeting that perfect stranger one day, but he just hoped it would be sort of obvious.

The redheaded Brit spent far longer sitting on those steps than he'd expected. By the time he was done soaking in his thoughts, he'd watched the sun set over the city skyline, and standing made him realize both that he'd become incredibly stiff and that his butt was frigid. In a way he was looking forward to the walk back to the apartment for dinner, glad for the chance to loosen up his muscles and confident in his self-affirmation that dating Dakota would be a mistake for both men.

Dakota had ordered pizza. Five pizzas. And garlic knots, and a lasagna, and a variety of chips, and a cookie cake...Cavendish blinked when he walked in.

The man had it all spread out on the bed as he sat in the middle of it, currently scarfing down cheese puffs in one hand while the other held pizza that he'd crushed a fistful of chips and cookie onto. His phone was on his belly, projecting a video before his eyes of some random woman showing off her cat that did cartwheels.

“And...what is all this..?” Cavendish quirked a wary brow upon entering the abode.

Dakota shrugged, barely glancing at him. “Dinner. Don't worry, I left yours on your desk.” He pointed to a box sitting on the mentioned piece of furniture. “Wasn't sure what you wanted, so you got everything. You still staying here tonight?”

Still quirking his brow, Cavendish turned his attention to his desk and walked over. “Unless Mr. Block has called with arrangements already...uck! My paperwork!” He'd lifted the pizza box to find that grease had dripped through and stained the reports he'd been working on before he'd left.

“Oh...sorry.” Dakota shrugged indifferently. He hadn't exactly been thinking clearly when he'd put the box there, and hadn't exactly intended to ruin Cavendish's work, but he also couldn't say he felt much of anything right now. He was too busy eating anything that felt like a feeling.

Clearing away the soiled papers and putting the box back, Cavendish rounded with wrists on his hips. “Alright, enough..! This is entirely too much for one meal. Are you sulking?” He could only assume Dakota was not taking rejection well. It had been so long since he'd gone this overboard with junk food, too.

“Nah,” Dakota shrugged, “Just processing. This is how I process. It's fine.”

“Looks like sulking to me...” the thinner man noted as he watched Dakota lift and guzzle directly from a two-liter soda bottle. “I do not wish for there to be any hard feelings over my leaving, so if there is something you would like to address, please tell me.”

The brunette sighed heavily. During his moping session, he'd already decided that he was going to just let this play out however Cavendish wanted. He would tell him whatever he wanted to hear. That things were fine, that he was right and that they could resume being friends with no complications attached. He was too scared and unprepared to try and convince him of anything right now. He knew he couldn't change his mind. He didn't want to lose him for good.

“Nope.” He pushed an easy smile onto his lips, as hard as it was to hold. “Just gettin' a headstart on all the binging I'm gonna be able to do without you nagging me about calories and whatnot.” He bit off half the pizza slice he held in one chomp, then carrying on with that stuffed into one cheek. “I'm sure you're right. Once you're outta here, my head'll cool off and everything'll go back to normal. No muss, no fuss.”

“Hmm.” While horribly irresponsible, jumping into doing the things Cavendish was normally against _did_ sound right up Dakota's alley. “Well, if you're certain, that is surprisingly wise a decision from you.” He eyed the mountain of food surrounding the other. “Mostly.”

“Yup. You always know what's best for me. I'm sure you're gonna love livin' it up on your own too.” Dakota scooped some lasagna out of its pan with an ice cream scoop now, putting that on a fresh hunk of cookie and wolfing it down to suppress the pain of saying that.

Cavendish's nose wrinkled. “Well I won't miss seeing things like _that..._ ” As ever, Dakota's experimental food combinations were...ambitious.

“Cool. Sounds like we're cool. I'm cool if you're cool. Friendship's still on track, right?”

“Of course. It was never my intention to end _that_ ,” Cavendish assured, “I just hope you see my meaning in doing things this way. There are better options out there for you. For both of us. I am giving you the chance to find them.”

Another slice of pizza disappeared down Dakota's gullet. “...cool.”

Ten years.

For ten years things carried on under this new arrangement, another meaningful discussion about Cavendish and Dakota's relationship escalating never coming.

Dakota tried to pretend. He tried to convince himself that Cavendish was somehow right, that his feelings had been misguided and that it wouldn't work out in the end to be his boyfriend. But all the Italian had felt in that couch bed by himself was loneliness.

Cavendish had taken the floor in his last few nights with the other, and the bed had felt so empty. Then, all at once, he was packed and gone. Dakota was given a new even smaller apartment as well, since they would now need to meet at an office every day instead of living in one, but cramped as it was it too felt so empty. And quiet.

Cavendish was not the most thrilled with living in a single room, but he did his best to spruce it up with his meager belongings. He also tried to ignore the deafening silence that came without a riff track narrating his life. Dakota was a larger missing presence than expected. However, he put those thoughts to rest reassuring himself that he would still see the man every day at work, and this was just because he'd grown accustomed to the stout man's constant presence.

Unlike Dakota, he was able to fool himself.

Dakota was able to act normally, and certainly enjoyed the time he spent with Cavendish. The friendship had always been real, after all. But there was just that little underlying hint of pining, the fact that he was terrified to try again to convince his friend what he really meant to him, simply because Cavendish might leave him entirely.

Dakota watched as well as it didn't look like Cavendish was even seeking a proper partner. The man was cordial whenever he needed to interact with others, as ever, but he seemed sadly content just...waiting. For what, Dakota didn't know. But more than once Cavendish had expressed an off-hand lament in his loneliness, so Dakota knew he still _wanted_ to find romance. Poor guy was just clueless about seeking it.

Not having felt any less in love with the man as well, Dakota could do little more than wish he could take any one of those opportunities to point the fact out to Cavendish. But he couldn't. He couldn't even date himself. He'd...tried, but he'd only been able to sit and talk with a new face for a short while before being unable to take it anymore. His head only continued to buzz with thoughts of Cavendish while trying to look at another person with intent to love. So he'd cut those few dates short before giving up entirely. Every day he still found himself smiling at Cavendish, marveling at his preciousness and falling harder and harder for him. It was madness.

At most he'd tried to ignite some form of reaction from Cavendish by hitting on others in front of him once or twice. Perhaps even make him realize that he regretted turning Dakota down. But alas, all it did was confirm in Cavendish's eyes that he'd been right, Dakota was over him, and he was more than willing to flit between partners. Once Dakota even tried hitting on their coworker Savannah, as much as she remained an unlikable jerk over the years, just because she was there, it was a whim, and he knew Cavendish didn't like her. He'd done nothing. Merely carried on insisting they needed to use her and Brick's time limo – a limo!

This...ended up being the last time Dakota hit on someone in front of Cavendish. It proved doing so was not having the desired effect – any - and it was not helping Dakota feel anything less. But it was also making him _look_ like he did, and he still held out hope that someday he could show Cavendish how strongly he still felt.

Even as he watched Cavendish's hair turn from its rusty orange to a stark wolfish grey, and the man got experimental with his style, deciding a mustache would help him look “distinguished” with his new color, or that dressing like Professor Time _all_ the time would bring him luck in his ventures, Dakota's eyes never sparkled any less while gazing at him.

Of course that isn't to say the two didn't still fight. They bickered and argued as much as they ever had, but it did nothing to stifle their bond. If anything, that was the most refreshing constant they had.

As for Dakota, he finally did something about his hair after he and Cav got around to visiting the 1970's. While there, he had been quite excited to show off his knowledge of the fashion – Dakota had cycled through a few more wardrobe experiments than his partner, currently going through a bellbottom phase – and had ended up getting laughed at. A lot. Cavendish had agreed he still thought that awful misshapen afro looked ridiculous, and with the locals supporting the idea, Dakota had groused and stomped into a barbershop right then and there to ask for something fashionable. He came out with a much neater cut, short and even and exactly how Future Dakota had worn it. And, admittedly, Dakota dug it. It felt lighter and much more manageable on his head. Even Cavendish said it looked sharp. So Dakota kept it.

He'd also wanted to come back to the time period, and it was while doing this that he happened to see a familiar red, yellow and gold tracksuit in a window he and Cav were passing. Immediately he'd pressed his face to the glass and wanted one. He hadn't even remembered seeing it before at first, but after trying it on, hugging himself and declaring it felt like it was _made_ for him, he caught a fresh glance of himself in the mirror and sparked his own memory. After feeling a weird twinge of stun, he supposed he was becoming Future Dakota now. It was official. No more hope of warnings or advice. And now it was up to him to decide if carrying on like this with Cavendish was worth it after all.

He still saved the man every time he died, and he continued to die with alarming frequency. Containing the other Dakotas was nigh impossible by this point and they were scrambling to find someplace they could all go. Some had broken their communicators and were also now impossible to contact, though some had found other Dakotas to link up with and rejoin the circle. One said he'd been doing some sailing and thought maybe he was onto something in the way of treacherous island getaways. Wouldn't it be convenient if they could all go to the _same_ place? Each and every one still wanted to know how the man they'd sacrificed their timeline for was doing. Each and every one still missed him. And in the present, Dakota had to admit that as stressful as managing so many versions of himself was, he was not looking forward to the day he would inevitably join them, for in some miraculous way...it _was_ worth it.

Despite pining day after day for him, Cavendish still lightened Dakota's heart to be beside. He was still fun to tease and hang out with, and he was still the reason Dakota got up in the morning. He just had to come to the office to see that eager, determined face full of drive instead of roll over in bed.

In a way, staring at himself in that mirror, Dakota felt pathetic. He'd never expected this was where his life was going to take him. He'd never thought _he_ would be the type to tie himself down longing for a man that didn't even believe he loved him. Would he ever get Cavendish to see just how deeply he did? He doubted it. But he just couldn't stifle that last ember of hope. And in another way, he felt lucky to be there ensuring the man he loved stayed with him.

Cavendish had adjusted to this life as best friends much more easily, as maintaining reservation came much more naturally, but despite feeling like he was being proven right with every one of Dakota's actions, and that this was the best course of action, he couldn't help but sense some underlying tension remain. He could swear he sensed gazes of admiration on him from time to time, only to turn and find Dakota minding his own business and goofing off while he was supposed to be working. He definitely _saw_ something a bit off every now and again in the smiles Dakota gave him. And likewise, he had to admit he never felt much aversion towards them.

It was never enough to bring up, but as they only grew closer each passing month and then year, he could swear every once and a while there was this romantic... _ripple_ that would pass through when least expected. Some moment of perfect understanding would arise saturated with fondness and Dakota would be gazing with that heavy-lidded beam of his, Cavendish would feel an off-guard flutter, and then as quickly, it would be gone. Dakota would offer some breezy segue and the mood would carry on as normal.

It was very strange. Everything should be going perfectly. There was no way Dakota could still be longing like that after so long. Cavendish opted to refrain from addressing it, however, as the awkwardness of the single time Dakota had tried to ask him out nagged in memory, as well as the potential that topic held to destroy their ability to keep the comfortable relationship they had. Yes, this was enough. This was good. Instead Cavendish focused mainly on his job, determined to do something right with it.

Mr. Block had gotten sick of the two bungling every unimportant mission they were given, and so had decided to give them _one,_ with so much room for error there was no _way_ they could screw it up, and he wouldn't _consider_ giving them a new mission until they got this one right. That mission was to go back to the twenty-first century to protect a green tree nut Mr. Block had enjoyed as a child, called a “pistachio”, and prevent it from going extinct. This was the time period it was most in danger, and the two were to _stay_ in that time period until they'd succeeded as well. That meant new apartments, a new office, a new trashy time vehicle, everything.

As it turned out, Cavendish and Dakota spent a very long time in the twenty-first century. The mission proved much more difficult than they could have ever expected, and as they would discover, it was because their missions most often coincided with the day-to-day life of one teenager named Milo Murphy. A jinx literally cursed with the ability to make anything and everything around himself go awry. Of course Mr. Block was not interested in hearing any excuses regarding this, only wanting results.

At first Cavendish had been certain that this Murphy character was out to stop the mission intentionally once Dakota had pointed out he was always present during one of their spectacular failures, but then Dakota had gone and outright _asked_ him what his deal was, at which point they learned of this curse and ended up being acquaintances of sorts with the youth and his friends.

Cavendish had actually been disappointed to hear that they were being stopped by chance and some random teen, as he had found a sense of purpose in believing the boy was a counter-agent. Now he knew the job was just as meaningless as it ever was. That was, until it turned out that an incident where Milo accidentally took a can of fertilizer from the future that Cavendish and Dakota had been planning to use, then creating a sentient blob in his science class, resulted in a piece of that blob surviving destruction and using the plant the two time agents had actually _saved_ that day as a host to become a supervillain.

The agents couldn't say they had seen that one coming.

The mutant monster ended up sprouting thousands of offspring that he used to destroy humanity.

As the only time agents around, not to mention partially responsible since they'd saved the plant that had caused this, Cavendish and Dakota found themselves with a new mission to save the future that had been destroyed. They were from there, after all!

Inadvertently, the agents ended up getting tangled with Milo again, but this time the kid ended up being a help more than a hindrance, and he and his friends aided in the defeat of this despotic mutant snack, finally killing the plant that had started it all.

That had felt good. Cavendish and Dakota had finally gotten a chance to face off against a serious threat to time itself, and they had _won!_ The only problem was they'd saved the future...and so no one in the future was aware of their success. Mr. Block had laughed at their report.

Then, as it turned out, they were not even done with the pistachio monsters. Milo would get a call from Dakota in the 1950's not much later, and this would launch another adventure involving the one surviving offspring the original monster had, and this one was bent on impersonating, enslaving, and then converting all humans into plant beings and ruling over the entire plant-based empire.

This adventure also involved a lot more time travel, and the agents teaming up with the creator of a popular old-timey show called Dr. Zone, and much to Cavendish's glee, Professor Time, although in the twenty-first century he had not invented time travel yet and was known as Dr. Doofenshmirtz. He was also...a huge disappointment, Cavendish would be less ecstatic to discover. Instead of some brilliant scientist, he was a thoughtless loudmouth who only ever seemed to do anything good by accident.

It was while time traveling to get this man a specific brand of orange soda – something he _insisted_ they stop for – that the return trip got them all shot out of the timestream and launched from the sky onto a deserted island. Cavendish chewed Professor Time out mightily, sending him off in a huff. The TV creator followed after, leaving Cavendish and Dakota to explore where they had landed.

Dakota would then realize that this was the island his one duplicate had been talking about. He had found a perfect place for all of the clones to go, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by deadly waves and rocks, and so they had migrated there. They'd established a routine around it, and even fixed the conference call problem by hooking up a live feed to cameras capturing Cavendish's time with him. They called it the Island of Lost Dakotas, and Dakota was sure Cavendish landing right in the middle of it was going to be cause for some difficult explanations.

He tried to mask the existence of his other selves and distract Cavendish, but considering they'd wandered to the gates of the walled city the duplicates had apparently formed, and traffic was heavy, his attempts didn't go far. Cavendish marched right over and demanded an explanation, and Dakota had had to bare all, admitting he'd been keeping _hundreds_ of deaths secret and working out this replacement system. Cavendish had then been spotted by the duplicates, only to be greeted with a swarm of hugs and happy greetings, a soda shoved in his hand and tattoo of the miniature green top hat he now wore being shown off.

Dakota had expected a scolding at the very least, but what he hadn't expected was Cavendish to tear up on the spot, wiping it away with a sniffle and thanking each and every one of the same man surrounding him for the sacrifice they had made for him. Wow.

After this warm welcome, after hearing why all of these Dakotas existed, Cavendish was struck all at once by a backlog of eye-opening realization. He couldn't even waste any time marveling over how often his life appeared to be in danger, for he was too busy registering what sheer _devotion_ his partner had been harboring thanklessly all this time. It was incredible. It was unbelievable. And it was all he could do not to break down completely at how touched he was that someone could find him worth this staggering amount of effort. He'd been so blind not to put this together. Not to believe Dakota could ever be capable of dedicated love. And still all the bunch had to say was a pass-offish, “Whaddya gonna do?” Like the sacrifice was granted. The only reason they even had to justify it was because “he was Cavendish”. If that wasn't blind unyielding devotion, Cavendish didn't know what was.

He would have loved to address it further, but Professor Time and the TV creator were carted in by still more Dakota duplicates right then, and it turned out a plan to save humanity from pistachios was underway. The Island Dakotas were right onboard with that. Cavendish was part of humanity, and he liked living in it. Saving the world was a nice bonus.

It was while they were all constructing a fleet of airplanes out of island resources that the Brit found time to circle back to the thing now burning a hole in his tongue. He was next to the current Dakota, identifiable by the fact that he was wearing the cleanest, freshest tracksuit while the rest of them wore a variety of dress and palm fronds, not to mention were much more tanned, as the two went over some blueprints they had been provided.

“I can hardly believe this is real...” he started a bit dumbly.

“What, that we're making war planes that shoot orange soda? Yeah, it's a little out there, but hey. Bet it's still gonna look cool when we're done.”

“Not that..!” Cavendish was amazed the other couldn't guess what he was getting at. “Well, perhaps a little bit of that, but I'm _referring_ to your nobleness..! You really thought _I_ was worth _hundreds_ of erased lifespans? Your _own_ life? Even after all this time?”

Dakota scratched the back of his head. "Well yeah. Um, I know it's probably a little late to state the obvious, and I'm sure I could've handled it better, but...I love you, Cavendish. More than I could ever figure out how to tell you. Whaddya gonna do?" A shrug there. He'd gotten used to it.

"Oh, Dakota...I see that now more clearly than I ever have. You kept it all secret for my sake. You even accepted my decline. I...I feel terribly that I wouldn't take you seriously."

Dakota blinked. "You mean you're not upset..?" Part of him had worried the other might still call all this reckless rescuing childish fixation or something.

"Upset..? Dear Dakota, I'm beyond touched..! The only thing I'm upset about is myself..! I've been so inconsiderate of your feelings. _All_ of your feelings.” A brief gesture to the hundreds of backs working diligently around them. “Can you ever forgive me?"

After so many years of practice suppressing his love, Dakota didn't know how to process what he was hearing. Cavendish was... _actually_ acknowledging his love? A complex churning of emotions went on in his stomach before it settled on a bright little glow of hope. Of course he wanted to forgive Cavendish. He'd dreamt of this day. Only he didn't know where to even begin expressing it, so settled on the default indifference he'd always fallen back to. An accepting shrug and a breezy, "Whaddya gonna do?"

Cavendish's face softened and he smiled a bit sadly to recognize the stout man must be intimidated by his reaction and the fact that he was even talking about something they'd mutually been ignoring for an entire decade. Gently, he reached for and took Dakota's hands away from the blueprints they were fiddling with.

"Dakota...in light of all this, I'd like to rescind my previous declining of your affections. I would...be willing to go out with you if you're still inclined."

Dakota felt his heart skip a beat, but before selfishness could make him think twice he quickly pulled his hands away and put both up in defense. "Woah, hey, you don't have to go that far...it's...it's no big deal, really."

Confused, Cavendish's eyebrows knitted. Wasn't such a response what Dakota had wanted all along? "No big deal? Dakota, you are the _only_ person in the world's future or history to _do_ something like this..! I highly doubt _any_ other partner would have been so selfless as you! If that doesn't earn your emotions being taken seriously, then I don't know what does!"

"N-No, no, Cav..." Dakota struggled to find the words to explain himself. More than ever he needed to get them right. "I...I'm glad you want to give me a shot but...I don't want your feelings to be swayed by some grand romantic gesture. That's part of why I kept it secret. I don't want _this_..." He swept his hand around the island. "To be the only reason you feel something for _me_. Let's...let's just let this sit for a while. You can think about it, and when things settle down, ehh, you can come back to the idea. At least let yourself get mad at me again first. You know it's gonna happen." He chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood with his crack.

Cavendish had no words as he stared, face sympathetic and unbelieving. That was...such a mature response. So much so that Cavendish hadn't even considered the consequences Dakota was thinking of. Cavendish hadn't been thinking of when this rush of emotion was over. It made him realize how far Dakota had really come. He wasn't just some careless slob anymore. He was a thoughtful, responsible, unbelievably selfless man deep down who was only thinking about the man he loved. And he wanted something real, just like the older man did. Finally Cavendish found his words. "You make sound sense, old friend," he relented, placing a hand gently on the other's shoulder, "And believe you me, I will be treating this matter with the utmost gravity."

Dakota smiled back, putting a hand briefly over the one on his shoulder. "That's all I need. Thanks...Cav. Now let's get back to our battle plans. No one else has got an army ready and willing to stop those Nutjobbers. Right fellas?" The last part was directed behind him at the multitude of time clones.

They all raised their tools in answer. "FOR CAVENDISH!!"


	10. Chapter 10

With such a large workforce, the fleet of airplanes was completed within a few hours. And they worked! Proud to note this, the army then hopped onboard their crafts and took off en masse, heading for ground zero of the pistachio monsters' take-over, the town of Danville.

The ride remained reflective for Cavendish as he stood by his partner. Despite knowing there was a more pressing danger he should be focusing on, he still couldn't get over what he had discovered. Knowing that Dakota _had_ still had feelings for him as long as they'd been together made him note just how good at keeping the fact hidden he was. For just as long, Dakota had acted so perfectly casual, accepting Cavendish's coldness in his initial refusal, and still pining despite how poorly that incident had gone. How hard must it have been to put on that smile back then and accept, and then keep wearing it? Had Dakota been feeling this strongly about him all along? It was disheartening to think about how practiced at dismissing his own feelings he must have become. How it made it hard for him to process Cavendish being willing to talk about it now.

It truly did make Cavendish feel like there had been some imbalance in the give-and-take of this relationship.

As well, he was finally able to think some about how often he apparently lost his own life, only for Dakota to swoop in and hit the reset button, not even thinking before laying his life down in Cavendish's place. Maybe he didn't die in the Brit's place, but he still lost his life in a very real sense. He was still incredibly selfless to be doing that as something Cavendish could take for granted. It made the taller man decide right there that the _very_ least he could do was make a concentrated effort to preserve his _own_ life. He was aware he could sometimes not be the most attentive – as Dakota's reveal was pointing out in the most shameful way already – and after realizing just how much he literally owed his continued existence to his partner, it only proved how much better a job at caring for himself instead of others he needed to do.

And here he'd thought he'd been so on top of things this whole time. It was doubted he could have been more wrong. Well, it was time to change that.

With Danville's Jefferson County in sight, the focus shifted to the monstrous threat that had taken over, turning a local amusement park into their main base of operations. And the monsters had already begun turning humans into plant beings as well.

Orange soda began flying. That brand Professor Time had been so keen on turned out to be a perfect plant killer, and so was the reason it became the time clones' main artillery.

Moments later, this amusement park became a war zone. Some of the planes landed, including Cavendish and the present Dakota's, though it was an involuntary crash bringing theirs down. As soon as they were on the ground as well, the pair was greeted by a monster ready to crush them.

Feeling a sharp spike of determination to pay back his debt, the mustached man took this chance to act. Though terrified, he stepped himself swiftly in front of Dakota and bared himself as a shield from the evil creature's claws.

Dakota's brow had gone up, but he also felt a pang of dismay himself. Cavendish didn't seem to understand his words as much as he'd hoped. He grabbed the taller man's shoulders and instead yanked him to the side, diving with him to find shelter as the pistachio mutant followed.

Cavendish had blinked to find the both of them unharmed, and to find Dakota telling him he should  _not_ be doing that. They were short on time vehicles, and there was no way to go back and save him if Cavendish went tossing his own safety away. The Brit had pointed out in turn that  _he_ had no way of saving the other, either. He'd only been wanting to return the favor to some meager degree. But Dakota wanted him to see that he didn't  _want_ Cavendish to feel obligated. That wasn't what this was about. He didn't save Cav for favors. He saved him because he wanted to.

During their brief exchange of only a couple seconds, Cavendish did manage to get this sense, but he still didn't want to lose Dakota to any plant monsters. Some of the clone versions were already suffering terrible fates. He didn't want to think about if any of them had been ones who had hugged him hello. How unfulfilled their ends must have been.

The producer, who had been in their plane with them, cut into their moment with a snarky comment about how touching it was before moving to spray the creature that had been after them. In his opinion, it was kind of the wrong time to be having any emotional talks. His guns were then smashed to pieces by still more monsters and all three men had to flee for more cover, leaving this batch of monsters to be destroyed by incoming air troops.

Not a moment after this, the group rejoined by chance with Milo Murphy and his friends, only to find themselves face-to-face with the pistachio leader. They all thought they were going to die when he unleashed his biggest mutant of all to smear them across the pavement. In fact, weaponless, this was the worst moment of sheer vulnerability any of them had ever felt, and in particular Cavendish could count numerous regrets as he clung to his partner in helplessness. He was clung to in return, and the others joined this hug instinctively.

It was only a miracle that sentience was something all of these monsters possessed, including this giant. It had paused, taking in the gruesome battle and having second thoughts about what his kind were doing. The small cluster of humans had wasted no time to question this or even see where it was going. They'd fled.

This time it was more of a panicked scramble, none of them having been prepared for something as mortifyingly tense as that moment. Cavendish scrambled blindly. He was not much of a rough-and-tumble fighter, had found himself encountering another monster, and was feeling especially squishy right now considering what he'd learned about himself. However, almost straight away he found his coattails yanked and immediately after was in Dakota's arms, being carted away in the opposite direction of where he'd been headed. He watched in dismay as two other monsters he hadn't realized were closing in on him crashed into a pile with the one he'd been running from. It seemed he was off to a poor start at preserving himself.

Disgruntled as he was with how he was performing, however, he found himself predominantly grateful once more for his partner's protective nature towards him. It was comforting to know that even now, the man truly was looking out for him. However, the only way Cavendish could find to express it in this frazzled moment was to form a pained look on his face and throw his arms around the Italian's neck. He felt so useless in this fight, preoccupied with his own mortality and too many things on his mind to contribute properly. He didn't want to die, but  _why_ was he being given so many chances to live? Why did  _he_ deserve them?

As much as he didn't want to, once Dakota had put him down, the two now on the steps to a foliage-covered roller coaster, Cavendish had to admit that his head just wasn't in the best spot to fight. He didn't want to be useless, but he didn't want to cause worry by getting himself killed, either. So he stayed here with Dakota, the two of them taking up sniping positions at the monsters as the Brit re-focused and pushed himself to concentrate. This was a crisis. He was normally  _good_ in a crisis. Find the right thing to do, he told himself. What was the right thing?

The tides of battle had turned thanks to some new friends Milo had made during the pistachio uprising coming in as some of the boy's own reinforcements, and the Murphy boy, along with two of those friends, had used a giant supersuit they'd built to even the odds and even take out the leader's main weapon. However, the robotic suit had not stood forever, and was eventually overtaken by the seemingly endless throngs of mutants. It crashed right on the steps Cavendish and Dakota stood on, and Cavendish couldn't have asked for a more straightforward answer to his conundrum. He had to help the kids.

Scrambling to climb the fallen machine now, he reached inside and offered his hand to the teen most immediately in his reach. The other two younger boys appeared more resourceful, freeing themselves and climbing out with a rope, but Cavendish helped Milo get himself freed and safely out of the contraption.

The mutants were still coming, however, surrounding them, and the group now fell back to climb the roller coaster out of desperation for a point to fight back from. Cavendish and Dakota headed this retreat, but soon the small cluster found themselves cornered on the track once hitting a broken portion of it.

It was here that Professor Time decided he was going to have  _his_ heroic moment. He stood proud and determined and declared that  _he_ was going to decide when they'd run out of time, and that that was not now. Cavendish had been stunned, seeing the man he'd idolized all his life finally shining through, not letting Dakota point out that a speech like that didn't really offer a  _plan_ right now _._

As it turned out, it _did_ offer them a plan, too. A time portal in the sky opened up, and Professor Time – the _real_ Professor Time, the one Cavendish had always known – flew out of it on a personal time chair. Apparently he'd read about this event in a book the TV producer had written, and offered his hand to that man to join him in going back to the past to stop it all. He'd even turned to greet Cavendish, seemingly having remembered him kindly despite how poorly their interactions had gone during this adventure.

Dakota watched Cavendish geek out even more than he had when first hearing he was going to meet Professor Time at the beginning of all this, eyes glittering and cheeks pressed with giddy knuckles as he became short on breath. At least he wasn't offering to show the man his novelty underwear this time. It was dang adorable to see him fanboy his hardest, and even now Dakota couldn't help a fond smile.

His brow went up when Cavendish turned to grab him, though. Seeing that eager sparkle and the older man lean for him, Dakota had almost thought Cavendish was going to kiss him out of glee. He wouldn't have been terribly opposed. But then the grey-haired man simply tugged the other against him and smooshed their cheeks together as he gushed about how his idol knew his name.

Should Dakota be this disappointed? As much as he knew they needed to let things sit, he still felt like he could have forgiven a kiss this time. At least this time Cavendish knew what that would mean.

Deciding not to dwell on it, as he was quite adept at doing, he just let Cavendish finish his giddy giggle session, both then distracted as they watched the pistachio mutants begin to fade from existence, the humans who had been turned returning to normal as well. It looked like Professor Time and the producer had been successful.

As a wave of relief and celebration sweeping the crowd of prisoners and Dakotas, the small group of rebellion leaders got themselves down off of the roller coaster and enjoyed the sense that the timestream had righted itself. Everything was as it should be. New friends and old shook hands and said their goodbyes, and the multitude of Dakota's time clones had simply brushed themselves off and seen themselves out acknowledging that their job was done, joking as they left about how they were glad they weren't the two time agents, because they were going to be “hosed” for breaking so many time rules.

And they were right.

It had been easy to brush off the consequences to come in the moment, everyone giving a relieved laugh as the tension passed, but in the days that followed, Cavendish became extremely tense worrying about them. He was letting everything that had passed finally absorb in its due time, and his head was reeling. It was too many things! Too much all at once! He was very glad Dakota had wanted him to take his time, for during this wait he certainly had gotten irate with the man. He'd snapped tensely for what would normally be very minor annoyance. On the final morning of waiting for a response to their report, he'd even exploded at the Italian for slurping soup.

Dakota had been understanding, knowing the other was processing a lot and incredibly stressed, but still thought he ought to take a breather. It was of course at that moment that Mr. Block had called them. Cavendish was clearly panicking, his posture incredibly stiff and flustered. He'd tried centering himself, but upon giving Dakota the go-ahead to actually answer Mr. Block's call, had swung one of their office chairs clean into the time phone screen, smashing it to bits.

Dakota stared. Wow. Yeah. Cav was stressed.

It didn't help that they were outright teleported against their will the next second, finding themselves in front of Mr. Block and the two other members heading the Bureau of Time Travel. They were being put on trial for the increasing trend of disobeying orders and breaking rules they were responsible for, as well as what was perceived to be horrible excuses as to  _why_ they had done all of it.

Though strung out beyond belief, Cavendish was sure his years as a barrister would come in handy here. Dakota had felt like he still ought to loosen up before trying to make a case for them, lest he fluster himself into digging a hole, and had taken the opportunity he was given with his job of making an example tape to make something light-hearted. Maybe he was supposed to be making a case for how valid their excuses were, but he instead used the device he was given to look through and capture moments in time to create a gag reel of his and Cavendish's most spectacular moments of destruction. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Maaaaaybe humor wasn't the way to win over judges like this, though. Or Cavendish's mood. Neither had looked very pleased. Actually, they all looked pretty aghast.

So, perhaps a bit late, Dakota had gotten serious and cut off their sentencing to point out how the judges weren't field agents. They didn't know what it was like. They hadn't  _seen_ what the two men had gone through, and  _especially_ Cavendish! He'd rambled a bit too far about how selflessly Cavendish had repeatedly died for his job, and then how Dakota had stopped that by breaking countless more rules than the judges were even aware of...aaaaand then it dawned on the brunette how  _he_ was now digging a hole for the two of them and promptly shut up.

Any positive case he'd been making was now thoroughly overshadowed by this list of new infractions and the two agents were fired on the spot, as well as banned from time travel altogether and banished to stay in the twenty-first century.

On the plus side, they'd gotten used to it there, Dakota would say. They'd been there so long already.

Cavendish was not consoled by this in the slightest. He'd ranted Dakota's ear off about what a stupid move that had been, how he should have just let the Brit handle things since he was actually  _aware_ of how a court proceeding was supposed to work, how now, even though he was aware of how much extra precaution he needed to take of his surroundings, there was no guarantee something unexpected wouldn't kill him out of the blue, and as Dakota had  _seemingly_ been aware before,  _they now had no way of undoing that!_

Dakota had...let him rant. He had to accept that there was truth in the scolding this time. He'd messed up. Again. He'd only done what he thought was best, though! He'd meant well! Cavendish knew his judgement wasn't always the greatest. He didn't let his comebacks be voiced, however, knowing Cavendish did know all of them deep down and feeling like it was best to just allow the man to vent this time. At least he was finally de-stressing.

At last, Cavendish had calmed down. Only now, he was very depressed. After being fired, they'd simply sat outside together on the snowy curb outside the building their office was in – this year's Winter was just starting – and talked about it. What were they going to do now? What was their purpose? Almost numb by this point, Cavendish had taken a page from Dakota's book and shrugged it all off with his own breezy, “Whaddya gonna do?”

Dakota had found this amusing, and was sure things would work out, but he knew Cavendish wasn't really over it. He felt like he'd lost everything that had ever had any meaning to him. That was obvious. So Dakota readily offered him a shoulder to cry into and a warm patting hand on his back. Cavendish had taken it without a moment's thought.

The Murphy kid had rolled by on the street's ice then, along with his friend Zack on a pair of inner tubes. They did not appear to notice what they'd been interrupting and asked instead if they could be time traveled a few minutes back to avoid the curse-caused trip that had apparently just made them very late for school.

Cavendish felt a spike of bitterness for the jinx. Like he'd somehow been responsible for losing the time agents their position. He would acknowledge it was unfair, as the teen had still been a resourceful help in saving the world, but it was hard not to dislike that curse in the first place.

The teens themselves weren't banned from time travel either, so after a quick explanation of the situation, they'd allowed the teens to borrow a quick personal transport from Dakota's handheld and picked up where they'd left off. Cavendish had a lot more he needed to let out.

As well, Cavendish was very grateful for the patient way his partner was tolerating all of his terse actions, sharp-tongued accusations and now deflated sobbing. It felt like the stout man understood why he was doing all of it, and was prepared to be there for him as he worked through it. Even now, it was so strangely comforting in those kind arms only seeking to help him heal. Dakota was just always comfortable at the end of the day. The taller man's slender fingers gripped tighter at the back of Dakota's coat, hardly feeling any more deserving of this man's care than his devotion.

“Thank you...” he said weakly, sniffling to get ahold of himself, “I don't know what I've done to deserve a partner like you, but thank you.”

Not liking the way Cavendish liked to look down on himself, Dakota let the other go and pointed a cross finger at him. “Hey, don't go saying that stuff now..!” he warned, “You are a _good_ man, Cavendish. There's no 'deserving' in the eyes of the universe, either, but if there was, you _definitely_ do not deserve all the bull bologna it's been throwing at you. And you _don't_ deserve the death plot it seems to have against you in particular. Seriously, what is _up_ with that? But anyway, I'm _not_ gonna let it happen. If you're watching your own six, then it's also gonna make my job a lot easier. But I'll tell you what you _do_ deserve. You deserve to be happy. And I'm gonna do my best to make that happen too.”

Cavendish felt his eyes brimming all over again as he was scolded. It was once again ground into him how utterly valued he was to another person. That even if he'd lost everything, he still mattered. And Dakota would still be sticking by him. How had he ever _not_ wanted to let this man love him?

Seeing the Brit in danger of starting his sobs all over again, Dakota adopted a softer expression and a gentler tone, placing a friendly arm around the man's back. “Hey. Don't worry about it. We're gonna find something. I'm not just gonna bail on you 'cause we got fired. I really think what  _you_ need is some time away from all this. Out of the office, out of your head. No going off to sulk, either. I'm not letting you go home until I see a smile. What say we give all this drama a good ditch day and go have some fun, huh?”

Wiping his eyes clear again, Cavendish could actually agree that he was sick of feeling horrible. He would love to get his emotions back on track, and everything Dakota had said was quite touching and motivational. The last time he'd allowed them to share a ditch day had been very enjoyable as well, although this time it would be a _lack_ of a job they were ditching instead of the job itself.

Actually, last time they'd spent a day together, just goofing off, it had felt very intimate. Naturally, they'd both been ignoring the vibes seeping out of their butterfly net frolicking and tandem bike riding and particularly that rowboat ride for two around the pond they'd simply not talked about. That ride had taken them both back to their first joyride together, where they'd driven on a river in slowed time. Cavendish had felt the underlying tension in their relationship at its strongest that ditch day. And though he hadn't addressed it, he also...hadn't felt like outright snuffing it.

Now, recalling this, as well as being so aware of the swell of this moment, the grey-haired man made a different decision with a tentative hunch. “...it can be a ditch  _date..._ if you would prefer.”

Dakota's eyes widened. “Wha...” Not what he was expecting. Cavendish accepting the idea was good enough, but  _this?_ After he'd been such a wreck, after he'd definitely had ample time being angry at Dakota, and after Dakota had admittedly made a huge mistake during their trial...he was offering a  _date._

“Um...would _you_ prefer..?” Dakota's heart was beating faster just hearing the suggestion, but maybe this was still some kind of obligation. How much had Cavendish really been thinking about their relationship with all the other things he'd had to worry about? The shorter man took his hand away from the other's back, almost worried that could have been an influence.

Cavendish watched his partner back down just as tentatively, registering how deeply that fear of ruining their companionship must run in Dakota. He'd been the one keeping much more hidden, after all. For so long. It only made sense. It made Cavendish feel awful all over again for ignoring him so adamantly. But he didn't want to feel awful. He didn't want to make _Dakota_ feel awful. And he really felt stupid for not giving this a chance in the first place.

Pointedly, he reached for the gloved hand that had left his back, letting his own gloved fingers lace with it. “I would,” he assured, moving his other hand to hold Dakota's elbow closely.

Dakota gawped at him for a good moment. That motion to come by his side was clearly inarguable. Cavendish...meant this. It was...it was...a dream come true, really. Dakota didn't know how to process it. Cavendish wanted to go out with him! Right now!

Everything. Everything in this moment was worth it.

A large grin formed on Dakota's lips as he finally felt like he could safely let his hope free. “O- _kay!_ ” he perked back, “Then ditch date it is! Whaddya wanna do, we got all day. You wanna eat first, or think about what we're doing? Oh! I saw an ad for an escape room place at a bus stop the other day, you wanna try that? I thought it looked interesting and y'know, you're good at puzzles and stuff. Seems up your alley!”

Cavendish blinked at the sudden bright and eager attitude as Dakota began rambling about plans, but soon his brow knitted and he gave an endeared tut. My, it seemed there was a lot of pent-up excitement. Again, understandable after a decade of pining. Cavendish bet Dakota had never expected such an invitation when offering this method of cheering the taller man up, but he was definitely not ready to let the opportunity slip past. As well, Cavendish agreed it was best to make the most of it.


	11. Chapter 11

Since Cavendish hadn't actually eaten breakfast while he was too busy fretting, he decided he would like to get some fuel in himself if he was expected to be any good on an outing. Dakota did not oppose to a second breakfast.

The first stop was a pancake house called 'Paul Bunyan's', and the first thing Cavendish did once they'd seated themselves in a booth was squint critically at the menu. Specifically, the tagline underneath the establishment's name.

“Where food is good, but not _too_ good...eh?” he questioned, looking at the man across from him and flourished a palm at the offending text. “What does that even mean, ' _too_ good'? Have you ever had food that was _too_ good? Who tastes something and goes, 'Oh, how horrid! This is simply _too good_ to ingest further..!'”

Dakota snorted. “Not me, that's for sure. And not just because nobody actually talks like that.” He patted his pudge fondly. “I don't think I've met a food too good for at least a chance with me. Maybe I met a tiramisu that was a little snobby once, but...”

“Precisely! Oh, I hate it when marketing taglines are so clearly--” Cavendish blinked and quirked a brow as he registered Dakota was interpreting the wording yet another way and making a joke. “Ha ha.”

While Dakota grinned at him, proud of his awful joke, Cavendish turned to flag down a waitress. “Excuse me,” he began, holding up the menu, “I was wondering if you couldn't explain the meaning of this insipid slogan of yours. Are you suggesting the _food_ is insipid? Because if that's the case, I don't see why anyone in here should even want to be..! Awful wording. If you could direct me to the owner of this establishment, I would be more than happy to suggest a few alternatives that would be much more app--”

After a painful boot to their keisters, Cavendish and Dakota found themselves landing on them atop the pavement outside. The waitress had not taken kindly to the fussy remarks and had indeed called the owner for Cavendish, who turned out to be a burly man in flannel not unlike his inspiration, and had not taken any more kindly to hearing his slogan spoken of so harshly.

It was Dakota's turn to blink before turning his head towards the man beside him. “Wow, _you_ got us kicked out of something. Ha..!” In a flash he'd decided that was hilarious and pointed at Cav. “You..! And on the first place we go, too..! I didn't think it was _possible_ to _nitpick_ your way into a ban!”

Sourly, Cav crossed his arms. “Hmph. Some people just have no appreciation for common sense.”

“Pff. Yeah, sure, let's go with that.” It had noooothing to do with Cavendish getting hung up on insignificant details. Standing and dusting himself off, Dakota couldn't be put off by something like this. It wasn't the first time he'd been forcefully expelled from a building. Right now, nothing was going to ruin his mood anyway. “Still, I kind of thought the goal was to _eat_ something, so if you're done playing critic, c'mon, let's just go to 'I See You Waffling'.”

Getting up as well, Cavendish let his gaze follow the direction in which the casual thumb Dakota was gesturing pointed. Setting his arms behind his back, he declared, “Indeed. There, see? Wordplay. Clearly the classier eatery. We should have just stopped _there_ in the first place.”

A shrug. “Eh, maybe, but you gotta admit, it's kinda hard to argue with a giant plaster statue of a lumberjack with a spatula.”

“...touche.”

Sitting down in the new breakfast restaurant proved to go much better. There were no slogans on the menus for Cavendish to get distracted by, and the pair managed to actually get food delivered to their table.

While the Brit delighted in a forkful of his waffle stack, Dakota drowned a plate of French toast in syrup. He'd gotten more than one dish, but that was what he was starting with. The shorter man watched his partner, glad that he was acting so normally. No instant regrets was a good sign. “So, uh, yeah,” Dakota spoke up, “What sort of stuff do _you_ usually do on first dates? You never really gave me an answer about what we're doin'.”

A bit bashfully, Cavendish's eyes went to the side before he was able to look at the other. “Oh, you know...a short cruise, an art gala, a spot of champagne and a carriage ride through the private orchard...”

A brief stare from the Italian. “...woof.”

Cavendish just looked uncomfortable. “I told you you weren't my usual type...well, more accurately, it turns out you're _quite_ my type, but simply a type I am...inexperienced with.”

It did bring a bright smile to Dakota's lips to not only hear Cavendish _not_ shy away from the fact that this was a date, but to admit he found Dakota appealing. It was all he could do not to burst.

“Yeah well...same,” the man in sunglasses admitted, “I never really saw myself goin' for a guy like you either, but...I mean here we are. And I'm sorry, but no way I'm takin' us on a cruise.”

Reminded about how Dakota had more than just 'gone for' him, and had already established being flat-out in love with him, Cavendish took another shy glance away. “Yes, well...I wasn't exactly expecting one. Neither of us is quite so comfortably well-off these days, and we did plenty for free on our last outing like this. Um. I did think that place you mentioned sounded interesting. Is...is that the sort of thing _you_ normally do on dates?”

“Uhhhh...sometimes?” Dakota shrugged and then began motioning his index fingers around vaguely while he yarned. “If I did anything with a date, it was usually just whatever sounded fun at the time. I'm very spontaneous, I'm sure you're aware. But y'know, half the time it was through an app or just some talking at a place I was already _at,_ and then I'd just go with them to _their_ place and...” Blinking, he turned his eyes forward into space and registered how he had wandered into dangerous territory. “...get...decorating tips..?”

Lower eyelids pinched, Cavendish was at least grateful Dakota had stopped himself from finishing that anecdote as originally intended. “Classy...”

Also uncomfortable by how he was already saying completely inappropriate things that were sure to spook the man of his dreams, Dakota let a palm fall pointedly to the table. “Anyway! Like you said, we're not our usual dating styles. So how we _used_ to date doesn't matter. We gotta do what's good for _us,_ and hey, if you like the escape room idea, then great. We never did have trouble finding stuff to do together, so this'll be a piece of cake.” His other hand waved the notion of trouble off. Their first real activity was set. They could go from there.

Finding this all to be fair, Cavendish relaxed now that he wouldn't be hearing details about Dakota's days of promiscuity. Well, maybe he didn't relax all the way. While floored by what he had been shown was an obvious dedicated devotion to his partner, Cavendish was sure Dakota was feeling a bit starved in the physical department. The older man hadn't had any intimate encounters in just as long, so could certainly relate on some level. Only he hadn't been _hiding_ his desires nearly so strongly. Never had Cavendish felt a pressure to go beyond their normal friendly touches, and in fact he recalled the Italian drawing a rather strong line in the sand about going too far before mutual consent was made, but now...well, it was something that would have to be thought about. Cavendish supposed they would just have to see where things went and when.

“Quite.” A short moment. “You're thinking about having cake now, aren't you?”

“You're psychic, Cav.” A smirk was returned. “Hey, you think they'd give me a free slice if I told 'em it was my birthday?”

A roll of Cav's eyes. “Perhaps you should stop getting ahead of yourself and finish what's in front of you first.” The grey-haired man pointed to one of Dakota's plates. “You haven't even touched your eggs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ok, so what if we told 'em it was _your_ birthday?”

…

Dakota walked out of the eatery with a paper plate of cake he happily forked into his mouth while the “birthday boy” with him took the wheel as they got into their car and headed for their next destination. It was likely the last time they were going to get to drive a time vehicle, so they'd better make use of it while they still had it.

Once at this escape room facility and having “ooo”ed at the unexpected variety of styles they had to choose from, the duo signed up for one and were escorted down a corridor curiously unmarked save for the themed splashes of paint and decals surrounding each doorway. The two had chosen a jungle-themed 'adventure', and were stopped outside the appropriate door, which was unlocked and they were let in with wishes of good luck.

“Just don't go falling in any quicksand,” Dakota quipped to his partner as they entered and the attendant quirked a brow at his comment, “Remember that one time...”

“Oh, please,” Cavendish returned, “I doubt they would be allowed to employ such dangerous obstacles...oh, hello..!” He blinked in pleasant surprise to find himself and Dakota standing in the middle of what looked like a professor's study, complete with bookshelves, framed maps and trinket trophies, a large standing globe and a couple of plush-looking couches.

The gentleman smiled casually as he walked over to one of these with a low table in front of it, a Chessboard on top of that. “Well, I could just stay _here_ for the duration of our visit. Quite cozy.” He sat on the couch, confirming it was a comfortable seat, and began inspecting the game board.

Putting his hands on his hips, Dakota looked around and granted, “Yeah, I can see that. It's a stuffy room.” He ignored the sharp glance he got. “But what gives? I thought this was supposed be all jungley and whatnot. This is just some...office.”

As Dakota came to stand by the table and watch him inspect, Cavendish noted, “Clearly this is _part_ of the so-called 'adventure'. I suspect that we're actually on the tail of a professor who went to Africa in search of something valuable. Note the charts on the walls?” He straightened and pointed to a row of frames indeed depicting several inked outlines of Africa and then zoomed-in portions of the landmass.

Dakota noted them. “Ok, so why are you over here staring at a Chessboard?”

“There's always a Chessboard clue,” Cavendish breezed, “You don't include a Chessboard in a mystery without using it as a clue.”

“Ah, hey, true..!” Dakota beamed and nodded. He looked up to the walls. “And you know what else they always have in mysteries..? Secret bookshelf switches! You do that, I'll do this, ok?” Without waiting for an answer he stepped over to the nearest shelf and began throwing things off behind him. They were real books, apparently.

Flustering, Cavendish deflected the first few objects with his forearm, as he was directly in Dakota's line of trajectory. “Don't just throw things at random!” he insisted, “You could be destroying other valuable pieces of information..!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Dakota shrugged, “Well, how else am I supposed to find a switch?”

A book in each hand, Cavendish glanced between the covers with a quirked brow. “Dakota, what's the title of that book you're holding?”

Blinking, Dakota glanced at the book he'd almost thrown. “Uh...'The Cameroon Baboon'. Why?”

Cavendish held up both books he held. “That's what both of _these_ are called..!”

Lips forming an O of surprise, Dakota then turned back to the shelf, index finger scanning with him as he went down the shelf, and then the next. “Hey, they're all called that..! And they've all got...spiders on the spines..? Ok...”

Flipping open the copy he held, he scanned a bit of the text. “And according to this, baboons are _not_ native to Cameroon...so that's misleading. Y'know, not that I haven't thrown away facts in favor of a good rhyme sometimes. Also that's just a fun name. Cameroooooon...”

“Myezz...” Cavendish flipped through one of the books as well. “Why, this is just the same couple of pages reprinted over and over..! So something in here is obviously a key hint.” After a moment's consideration, he passed the large globe a glance. “Dakota, what does Cameroon look like on that globe..?”

Putting the pieces together, Dakota wandered over and spun said globe to check. His face brightened. “Oh hey..! It's the same spider icon as on the books..!” Looking at the book again, he figured out, “Ohhhh, baboon _spider,_ ok, yeah, Cameroon definitely has those. Oh, and also there's a keyhole on this spider.”

“Eureka!” Cavendish perked, clenching both fists excitedly, “Progress! Oh my, I do say this is rather adventurous after all..! I feel like such a detective~!”

Dakota had to admit, despite the room's initial appearance, this _was_ actually looking like a fun story developing. And Cavendish's eyes were sparkling in that excitable way they had as he got to use his nitpicky attention to detail to solve a puzzle. A place where that trait shined. Adorable.

As well, it turned out there _was_ a square on the Chessboard that had rough markings on it, and as Cavendish would note, it was also right in line with where two pieces, shaped like a baboon _and_ a spider, could land in an opening move.

While he was stewing to figure out the hidden meaning there, Dakota just let his eyes wander the room and happened to notice a tile on the checkered floor that was colored wrong in the pattern, half-hidden under a rug. Silently, he knelt by it and checked it on a whim. It lifted, and lo and behold, there was a key underneath. This he triumphantly presented to Cavendish, who pouted over how easily Dakota had found it without using the game board.

Once the globe was unlocked, there was another, larger key stashed inside the panel that flipped open. This opened a small door the two had to crawl through, and it opened into a larger room that definitely looked more “jungley”. It was entirely coated with fake grass, and trees sprouted everywhere as ambient noises played, and as Cavendish tripped over something in his first couple of steps, Dakota would bend to pick up the object and say he thought he found the professor. The item was a skull wearing a pith helmet.

The rest of the adventure mostly took place in this room. It was much of the same, hunting for connections and what had happened to the professor they were following. As it turned out, she had been cursed by an artifact she had been trying to remove, a blue diamond baboon spider sculpture. Now whoever was behind her had to figure out how to remove the curse from the little statue and take it back to a museum in the next room. After that they would be home-free and successfully complete the challenge.

However, Cavendish and Dakota came into a bit of disagreement over how they were supposed to make it out alive. They'd ended up simply squabbling over the object while bickering over the steps they were supposed to take to count as curse-free, pushing at one another as the taller party held it out of reach and falling to the floor. They ended up taking so long and causing such a ruckus that the attendant overseeing their adventure had to notify them over the speaker system that they'd unfortunately succumbed to jungle fever and perished...also there was another party waiting to use this run.

The pair had found the far door unlocked for them and the attendant giving a weird look to the two grown men frozen in such an immature pose on the ground, but had had to relent to their failure with twin sighs. They stood and returned the artifact, simply walking out with their tale unfinished.

Still, Dakota had had a nice stretch and declared that had still been fun. Different anyway. Cavendish could agree the experience was certainly unique. He'd let the shorter man now drape an arm around him as they departed. This was actually still rather pleasant casual contact. It didn't feel strange. Dakota was saying he was glad the other enjoyed himself and asking what he wanted to do next.

There was another amusement facility nearby, and Cavendish's eye had been caught by the batting cages. He'd always wanted to try those. Dakota thought it sounded cool too, so they both tried them out. The shorter man found his performance pretty average, but Cavendish's luck was terrible. He would swing so hard he spun clear around and landed on his belly, the bat twirling in the air and landing to jab him in the back. He would end up getting assaulted by the machine as it went rogue and pelted the balls rapid-fire. Once Dakota even managed to hit a pop-fly backwards over the safety mesh as Cavendish watched from behind it, clocking the Brit in the head.

Cavendish remained adamant that he _would_ hit one of those targets, however. They'd decided to try achieving that together, Dakota helping his stance since Cav was not the most athletically-inclined. He was also happy to take the excuse to keep staying close to the mustached man. The intimate proximity as Dakota helped him adjust his performance didn't escape Cavendish either. He didn't complain, though. Now that it was something he was allowing himself to focus on, having Dakota close sparked a light flutter in his ribs. In the end, they'd even managed to succeed in this venture, sharing a hearty cheer and jumping for joy at the accomplishment.

After this, however, both men decided to go somewhere a little more free in the budget department. They liked hanging out outside, so they headed back to their usual neighborhood and went to the park they liked. There Dakota was happy to feel Cav carefully reach for his hand again as they had a nice walk and took in the Winter sights. One sight made Dakota grin as he pointed it out to the other. It was a carriage ride. Cav had said something about liking those, right?

Cavendish had appreciated the point, and they'd taken the ride, sitting on the same seat and continuing to enjoy a comfortable moment as their fingers remained entwined, Dakota growing bold enough to lean his head against Cav's shoulder. He could see the appeal in such a ride.

Then they'd both noticed a stand slowly passing by – a pistachio stand, run by Brick and Savannah, the two old co-workers that had given them the most grief, outed them as breaking more than a few rules, and been assigned to replace them as pistachio guardians. Cavendish and Dakota had exchanged an evil squint, thinking the same thing. They'd stopped the cabbie and wandered over to the stand.

“Oh, hey, look at you two,” Dakota started, breezy smile on his lips and hands on his hips, “Still guarding those nuts, huh?”

“Not so easy as it seemed, now is it?” Cavendish chipped in. It had been a favorite insult of these two to point out how simple a job they'd been assigned.

Both well-chiseled faces tightened seeing the pair of failures coming to mock them. Mocking was what _those_ two were for!

Dakota carried on, “Yeah, so why don't you serve us up a couple-a bags, uh? Try not to blow up while doing it, 'cause y'know, ya might-a noticed that tends to happen.”

“We're paying customers, as well. Let's see some service with a smile, eh wot?”

It was so petty, but it felt so good.

Brick scoffed to have a bill waved at him. “I think we have the right to refuse service to a _known_ threat to our mission.”

Likewise, Savannah made no move to offer any service. “Shouldn't you wastes of time-space be off shoveling manure in the Renaissance?”

“Nope, we live here now,” Dakota passed off. Avoiding that 'mission' had to be one plus to getting fired. “And it looks like you two will be here for a while, too. What's the matter, your fancy gadgets and martial arts can't stop Murphy's Law?”

Savannah's brow furrowed. “Murphy's Law...” What did that have to do with anything?

The two men shared a knowing chuckle. Cavendish hemmed, “Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually.”

Brick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you two just go be idiots somewhere else? We have important time work to do.”

Dakota glanced at the dollar in Cav's hand. “I dunno, seems like you're not actually doing your job to me. I believe this man wanted some snacks.” He threw his arm around the Brit and pointed at him. “And I do believe it is _your_ job to provide.” A smug point to the other two now. “Diggin' that whole 'green stripes' look on you both, by the way. Not sure 'candy striper' is the best look for a _nut_ seller, though. Glad we never had to wear uniforms like that, eh, Cavendish?”

“Indeed,” the taller man agreed, “But I suppose tuxedos and evening gowns just aren't quite as versatile as our 'stupid costumes'.”

Both time agents' faces displayed extreme annoyance. Brick let his hand shift to cover his face. “If we sell you the pistachios, will you go away..?”

Dakota shrugged. “Eh, that's kinda the idea of buying something...”

Savannah looked up to the sky and scoffed. With a harsh swipe, she snatched the dollar from Cavendish and hastily threw over a couple bags of pistachios. Then she just crossed her arms coldly. “There. Now stop distracting us. We'll show you how _real_ time agents protect endangered cargo. We _will_ succeed where you failed.”

The pair she addressed exchanged a look.

“I say, how rude,” Cavendish observed breezily as he turned to depart with the other.

“Yeah, I think we should complain to the management,” Dakota breezed back. The frustrated exclamation he heard behind his back from the woman was very satisfying.

Sure, Brick and Savannah would find out they'd been fired and couldn't actually say anything to Mr. Block about them, but right now Cavendish and Dakota were happy and untouchable. They shared an impish laugh over their antics.

This time, Dakota made the move to hold hands. He was confident by this point that Cavendish was not going to reject this more familiar contact, and honestly, he was just over the moon to be able to do it. He wanted to keep doing it. Holding Cavendish's hand sent wave after wave of warm affection coursing through his chest. His face glowed as he simply stared at the Brit, that lazy beam that had always wandered onto his lips while doing so forming naturally as the pair walked.

Cavendish caught the expression in the corner of his eye and had to glance away. He finally realized what was in those goofy listless smiles sent his way. Unsaturated love. And it was admittedly intimidating.

Dakota's lips fell into a bit of concern as the two came to a rest by a pond. “Are you uncomfortable..?” He loosened his hold. “We don't _have_ to hold hands...”

Cavendish's fingers squeezed tighter, stopping the other from letting go entirely. He turned his head towards the other. “It's not that. I'm just...taking it all in. I suppose I'm just stunned to realize how many things I've written off, only to now see them in an entirely new light. Those smiles of yours in particular at the moment.”

A blink from the frizzy-haired man. “Was I smiling..?” He guessed he wouldn't have been surprised. How many times had he caught himself doing that in Cav's direction without realizing?

The taller party let his face soften as the two sat on a patch of grass under a tree that had avoided snow and put their snacks down. “Very charmingly,” Cavendish admitted, turning more towards the other and letting his other hand come up to caress Dakota's cheek. He could have sworn he saw the stout man blush. How unusual.

Indeed Dakota did not have it in him to feel embarrassed or bashful much at all, but he was almost afraid his heart had stopped upon feeling that gentle, delicate motion against his cheek. Hearing Cav compliment him like that. He felt stunned and an impossible swell of joy he didn't know how to respond to. So he blushed.

“Heh...I'm charming, huh?” Wasn't he supposed to be the goofball?

“Confoundingly so,” Cavendish confirmed, “It _is_ what made me decide to be your partner in the first place. And I think we're both glad for that.”

That swell inside Dakota burst into a bright, happy firework. Unable to hold back any longer, he took his hand from Cavendish's and clamped both arms around the other man in a tight, snuggly hug. Inside, he was thanking Cavendish for giving him this chance, for treating it so seriously and not holding back. He wasn't back-tracking or shying away from the fact that this was a date. He was validating everything Dakota had ever told him he felt. And he was being so sweet right now. Dakota wished he knew a better way to express his gratitude, but as ever, he just did not have the words pretty enough.

The grey-haired man's brow went up in a modicum of surprise at such an intently affectionate hug, but soon fell back into fondness as he gave a matching tut. He could guess Dakota was enjoying how Cavendish was treating their date. Sure it was a little alien to think of as a date, but the Brit was a man of his word, and in all reality, he did want to have this date. And he _was_ enjoying it. It was just as fun and eventful as any other time the pair had been out together. Just as familiar, just as natural. The only difference was that small switch that had been flipped that let these extra touches happen. These extra rushes of joy.

With warmth, Cavendish let one arm slip around Dakota as he snuggled, very much resembling a large teddy, and rubbed gingerly at his shoulder. This was very comfortable.

As the afternoon made way for evening, Cavendish and Dakota carried on by that pond. They fell back to lean against the tree, holding hands and gazing at clouds together. They stood and poorly attempted to outdo one another at skipping rocks. They ate their pistachios and Dakota remembered a neat trick he knew with grass he wanted to show off. He picked a blade and placed it between the heels of his thumbs, blowing through the space between them to produce a musical note. Cavendish had found that interesting and recalled something he'd learned to do with plants as a child from his grandmother. He picked several blades and weaved them into a bracelet, using what few clovers he found remaining from last season to decorate it. Dakota let out a low, impressed whistle.

The sky had gotten darker, and soon cloud gazing had turned into star gazing. That was, until the pair got cold, registered that they had become hungry again, and it was time to consider the final stop of their evening, dinner. They chose a noodle shop this time, and every moment remained as comfortable and conversational as the rest had been.

The only issue started to show when it was time to head home. Dakota decided to play the gentleman and bring Cav to his place first, but during the trip and especially as he was walked to his door, the older man had looked more and more troubled.

Not wanting to leave on such an obvious air of dismay, Dakota asked, fearing the worst in the form of his partner having regrets, “You ok, Cav..? You didn't hate today, did you? I thought it went really well. Sure, maybe a few bumps here and there, but when don't we have bumps, eh?”

One of Cavendish's hands came up to clasp the opposite upper arm. “Yes, but that's part of it...” he tried to explain, “I feel like everything went wonderfully...even the parts that didn't.” His eyelids pinched upward in concern. “But that only leads me to believe something is still _going_ to go wrong. Something _always_ goes wrong for us. For me.”

A moment of silence. “This sounds like something we should have a talk-talk about,” Dakota noted, “You mind if I come in so we can sit?”

“Oh, uh, not at all...” Cavendish granted. In all fairness, he felt like he was on the cusp of a rather deep topic as well. Not something to be exchanged on a doorstep.

So, he unlocked the door and invited Dakota in behind him as he entered. The light was turned on to reveal a very organized single room split into stations of use and decorated with a smattering of British iconography. Dakota didn't waste much time ogling the décor considering the atmosphere and followed Cav as he simply headed towards the couch to sit, joining the man on the other half of it after they'd discarded their scarves and gloves.

“So...why do you think something's about to go wrong, exactly..?” Dakota wondered.

Cavendish's brow pinched and his fingertips found each other in contemplation. “I don't know if I mean immediately wrong,” he elaborated, “But I do feel the distinct shadow of the dagger of Damocles.”

“Uhhhh...”

“I feel as though the near future is destined to go badly.”

“Oh. Gotcha. Thanks. But yeah...why? Didn't you just say you had a good time?”

The man in green opened his palms a bit helplessly. “It's just...everything about this is different..! You aren't anything like any other person I've dated, and no relationship I've been in has ever gone right, and I've already basically given up on finding love...this _feels_ right, but knowing how things have always gone, well...I'm afraid of it. You're the closest anyone's ever been to me. I don't want to upset that any more than you do.”

Dakota blinked. That was an unexpected amount of heavy concern. Had Cavendish been thinking this all evening?

An easy smile spread onto the Italian's lips, hoping it would be of some comfort. “Is that all?” He ignored the start of an offended look he got and pressed on, “Lemme tell you a secret, Cav. You're not the only one who's been insecure all evening. I've been scared too.” Now Cavendish blinked in registration and his face became curious. Dakota nodded. “Thinkin' that you'd suddenly change your mind and bail, that you weren't enjoying yourself and were just being polite or felt obligated to be with me, that anything I did might end up like...back then. Only worse.”

Cavendish looked towards the floor now, very aware of what the other meant.

Dakota continued. “You have no idea what it meant to me to hear you say you were _glad_ things ended up this way. Or just now, you saying it feels right. But yeah. I've been terrified inside. But I also seriously enjoyed myself. This...this date's been everything I've ever pictured – fun.” He saw Cav glance back up to meet his eyes, and nodded. “And hey, maybe different is good. Maybe different is what you need. I'm pretty sure it's what I needed anyway. And I hope you had fun, too.”

Tentatively, Cavendish's fingers found each other again. “I did,” he gave earnestly. He could find logic in the other's consolation. Maybe Dakota was actually right. Maybe he'd failed in the past _because_ he'd been looking in the same small selection. Maybe they'd both needed to consider something outside their norms. It seemed to have worked for Dakota.

The shorter man smiled again to hear Cav admit he really had had fun. “You need to stop thinking so hard about doing things that feel good, then,” he advised gently, “That's something I've noticed about you, you like to look over your shoulder before doing anything you like. You don't need anyone's permission to enjoy yourself. No one's going to yell at you for a little self-indulgence. At least not like when you were a kid.”

Cavendish's shoulders tensed slightly, but once again he was overly aware of how well Dakota was reading him. The Italian had such a way with emotional intelligence, and though the mustached man had never brought it to the forefront of his mind, he could see that yes, some of his reservations were indeed related to a feeling that he just... _shouldn't_ do things that he could freely indulge in. That he _was_ doing something wrong and if he spent too long with it it would invite punishment.

Perhaps it was just him holding himself back, seeing things going badly. Perhaps it was some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy that his negative expectations formed, despite an overall positive outlook. Perhaps it was actually time to throw caution to the wind. No one could have shown more signs of _not_ wanting to leave than this man right here anyway. Cavendish couldn't believe it had taken such an over-the-top sign to even break through the blind eye he'd turned to happy endings in the first place.

Dakota insisted, “I want to _encourage_ more fun from you, y'know...you're a fun guy. And I like it when you're _not_ thinking about imaginary consequences.”

With some amusement Cav let onto his face, the Brit noted, “Yes, well _you're_ the one usually having too _much_ fun.” He was feeling a lot more relaxed thanks to Dakota's encouraging speech.

Seeing Cavendish actually crack half a smile, Dakota relaxed in turn, giving a small smile back and a relenting tut. “Yeah, but that's what you're for. Reeling me in. We balance each other out pretty well, don't you think?”

Cavendish tutted back. “That we do.”

Fondness permeated the air between them as the two simply shared a comfortable beam, both of their eyelids feeling a bit heavy. Dakota still didn't dare mention the full extent of what he was feeling right now. He wanted to make a move so badly, but was sure that would only come off as uncouth. Like he'd only been offering support so he could get some sugar out of it.

Cavendish, on the other hand, had been absorbing Dakota's kind words, taking them to heart and feeling a decided surge of wanting to seize the moment. “In the spirit of all that then...Dakota...um.” It was still hard to break that social barrier, but by Jove he wanted to right now. “I know it's not very traditional for a first date, but the circumstances aren't very traditional either. This is all feeling very amorous. As am I.”

Dakota had not been sure what Cavendish was trying to say all of a sudden with his overly fancy words. He almost seemed to be resorting to them out of nervousness. Then he could have sworn he'd heard Cavendish say he was feeling amorous. Then his brow went up as he watched one set of the other man's fingertips come forward to ghost delicately down his front. A stunned sting erupted through his torso. Was...was _Cavendish_ coming onto him? It was hardly as smooth as in the British man's dreams, but this unmistakably had to be flirting. Dakota was nigh paralyzed with disbelief.

Cavendish scooted closer on the couch, biting his lip to stave his nerves. Dakota had already been loving him for so long they may as well have counted every outing together as a date. This day had hardly felt much different from any of those other times. They'd just been allowed to match their mindsets this time, and consider the occasion romantic. It wouldn't be too soon. In fact, just as he'd been thinking earlier, it would be far too late. He wanted to give Dakota this. "Might you be wishing to top the evening off a bit more physically..?"

Well, there was _no_ mistaking that. Dakota felt his heart jolt. It was so much more than he'd been thinking of going for. He was so floored, he couldn't prevent selfishness from taking over on this one. He'd been dreaming of this man for so long, and the floodgates had just been opened. Unable to stop the intense backlog of desire, he simply blurted it bluntly.

“Oh god yes.”

Mind taken over by the moment, he dropped everything else and flopped back on the couch, letting his limbs sprawl in absolute open invitation. “ _Please_ do me, you have no idea how much I want it right now.”

Cavendish had guessed how Dakota had been suppressing any and all physical desires, but still was a bit taken aback by how instantly the invitation had changed Dakota's demeanor. Though really, he could understand more than the Italian likely thought. And Cavendish didn't exactly want to retract the offer. It was kind of flattering to see a man literally throw himself before him. He just didn't expect Dakota to be so readily submissive about it. “Oh..! You wish to be the..?”

Breath already feeling thicker just for the thoughts splaying himself in ask to be pounced had given him, Dakota waved a hand dismissively. “I don't care, you do me, I do you; I just assumed you'd be more comfortable on top here. Is that not right?”

Hearing it spoken about so bluntly still managed to make Cav blush slightly. But as well, he was amazed that even stunned by a wave of lust Dakota was thinking about him and his comfort. “Oh, well I...I suppose I...um, that is to say not _all_ the time, but...”

Seeing Cavendish fluster, Dakota's face pinched. Of all times for the Brit to have second thoughts, he was quite sure this would be the most excruciating. “You can be adorable afterwards, but _please_ don't back out on me right now,” he begged, “I _want_ you, Cavendish. Balthazar. Just tell me how it's happening.”

Flushing at this hot, straight-forward plea, not to mention hearing his seldom-used first name hushed so intimately by that thick, gravelly voice, Cavendish did not want to disappoint the pain lingering in Dakota's eyes behind his lust. It was clear the strain of all these years of loving him had built up immensely. It would only hurt Dakota to ask him to reel in such strong feelings after asking him to let them go, but Cavendish hadn't intended to seem like he was asking that at all. He was just too busy realizing how appealing that staggering amount of love staring his way was. How unexpectedly hot under the collar it was making him to witness at its fullest. He only hoped he was capable of taking it.

Sharply deciding that he _would_ actually be more comfortable in the position Dakota was suggesting, at least this time, Cavendish's own face cleared with intent. He shifted himself to come over the man on his back, letting one hand softly graze Dakota's front again.

“Worry not, my dear,” he hushed sweetly, “I have no desire to stop it from happening. And I believe you are right. Let's have it your way, then.”

That said, he let his hand slide up to cup the side of Dakota's face before coming forward to kiss him whole-heartedly, an eruption of flames whirling through his insides, accompanied by the strangest cooling burst of freeing relief as he crossed that line out of platonic territory.

Dakota nearly went blind with bliss already as he felt those lips touch his. Lips that _wanted_ to make him feel something and share their own affection. This was a real kiss. A kiss Cavendish wanted to give his partner. Give _Dakota._

The Italian melted right into it, feeling himself sink into the couch cushions and perfectly content letting Cavendish take the lead. His eyelids fell shut as he sank into the sensation of the thinner frame hovering over him, and those soft, sweet lips and even the gentle brush of the fluffy mustache over top. His hands both clawed a clinging grip around the other body, one just under a shoulder blade and the other at the small of Cavendish's back. He pulled the other man down, begging for more contact and letting out a hum that was almost a whine when he felt Cavendish comply and their stomachs met. He was just so happy. After all these years, he was sharing a kiss with the man of his dreams. And it was perfect.

Letting himself fall to straddle Dakota with their bodies flush, Cavendish felt his face heating at the wanton sound escaping the shorter man. Every ounce of eagerness was obvious, and it was rousing Cavendish in turn. He let his second hand come to grasp Dakota's side, and quite soon they both were letting their palms wander to explore each other in a new way.

Dakota tasted deep and musky, rich in a matching scent and feeling just as warm with cozy body heat as ever. Cavendish felt much softness as his hands glided, and even lying on top of Dakota was like a delightful living pillow.

Cavendish tasted light and sweet, and somehow he still felt so smooth despite his bony frame. He smelled floral, no doubt thanks to his washing preferences, with perhaps just a hint of library. He was also light to embrace, not crushing Dakota in the slightest and in fact feeling quite comfortable as their torsos molded together.

Their kiss deepened and hands became bolder. Dakota still let Cavendish decide how things would move forward, but it seemed automatically mutual that their tongues found one another and took a tentative, curious stroke at one another before embracing as wholly as the two men's bodies.

This simple first step took its time between the two as they adjusted to the feel of one another, absorbed how it felt to act romantically with their best friend, and decided that it felt amazing. Their faces parted, and they spent a moment gasping and staring at one another to judge how the other was taking all of this, before simply diving back in.

Then Cavendish's hands had slipped underneath Dakota's tracksuit jacket, feeling around through just his undershirt. In turn he gasped through his nose to feel Dakota's hand slide lower and grasp his rear with a firm squeeze. He squirmed, admittedly egged on by the action.

Their lips parting again, Dakota had to ask, “You thinkin' of taking that off soon..? Gettin' kinda hot in here...your hands might like that better with less in the way, too.” He wasn't trying to rush, but his clothes were starting to get uncomfortable.

A soft chuckle. “Getting impatient, now, are we..?” Cavendish returned knowingly, although he could agree to feeling a bit stifled.

“ _You're_ calling _me_ impatient...” Dakota noted with his brow raised unimpressed.

Another knowing tut. “Good. You've gotten the joke.” They both knew Dakota had more than displayed his fair share of patience.

Dakota let his head fall back with an endeared smirk and a slight shake. Even now they couldn't help quipping at one another. He shouldn't be surprised.

Cavendish relented, “I see your point, however. Do raise your shoulders a moment...” He lifted himself enough to support himself while his hands came to unzip that jacket, and with Dakota's help, get it lowered off his arms. Leaning back in to kiss at Dakota's neck as he dropped the item off the side of the couch and began tugging at his waistline, Cavendish only paused to inform, “Feel free to return the favor as well. I'm becoming rather uncomfortable in my layers myself.”

Already plenty happy to experience this man undressing him, Dakota was more than happy to hear the invitation to undress Cavendish in turn. The Brit was impressively collected as this moved forward. It gave the sense that he actually wanted to do it, and was not in fact feeling obligated. Perhaps it was also a good call to let him take charge. He did like being in control of a situation, after all. In this situation, that attitude was quite appealing. Dakota just loved him all the more as he took his cue and started helping Cavendish get out of far too many layers of fancy suit.

More kisses were exchanged during the moments it took to free themselves of most of their clothing, soaking in the saturated intimacy that swelled with each inch of exposed skin. Both pairs of glasses were removed too, the two finding them something that would only get in the way. Soon, both men were down to their boxers, exploring one another all over again. Palms dragged, fingers curled, nipples were teased and breath was gushed. This was so much better bare, especially the way those fingers could now graze through chest and body hair, creating such wonderful goosebumps, though Dakota had much more of that hair to offer. A hazy atmosphere began settling in as the pair's petting became heavier alongside their breathing.

Once more, despite everything, Dakota couldn't help a comment. Or maybe he was able to comment because he was becoming so comfortable, grateful that Cavendish seemed to be as well. “Y'know, I'm gettin' kinda self-conscious with Professor Time staring at me like that. Kinda forgot he was gonna be here.” A glance towards Cavendish's boxers, indeed displaying a large logo of Professor Time's giant cheesy grin on both the front and back.

“Oh, hush. He's going to be out of the picture soon enough.”

Dakota's eyes widened at that and he felt his face heat some more. And a stir at his crotch. He'd never thought Cavendish could be in such a flirtatious mood. Not to say he didn't love it. “Oh god...ok, I've got no comeback for that. But now I want you to keep talking dirty to me.” His hands both dragged Cavendish's sides for the umpteenth time already, and he kissed the thinner man again. He felt Cavendish shiver pleasurably with the motion. “Please..? Come on, say something with my name in it.”

Flustered yet flattered, Cavendish felt the connection surge in the air. And with Dakota nuzzling up against him so enticingly, he couldn't help but want to cater to it. In fact, it was amazing how natural this all still felt, even undressing this far. Big, yes, but the further it went, the easier it was to just roll with it and lose himself in the rising ardor. And now, the mustached man couldn't help feeling desirable as he was asked to take the intimacy even further.

He felt a moment's hesitation to use his partner's name in such a context, but he only needed to think about Dakota's reaction to bring his lips by the brunette's ear and give him a few silky lines. “Hmm. I think we might be passing the point of mere talk...I have another use for your mouth in mind. Are you ready for my fingers, Dakota..? Or perhaps...Vincenzo~..?”

A shudder ran up Dakota's spine and he exhaled hotly. His name – _both_ his names – spoken while drenched in such suggestion...another stir came between Dakota's legs. He'd been very careful to avoid contact there so far, as his manhood was feeling extremely sensitive, but he was looking forward to when it would get its attention, and even moreso the attention Cavendish was ready to offer.

With an approving rumble vibrating out of his throat, Dakota simply reached for Cavendish's right wrist in response, bringing those first two fingers to his lips and letting them past, his tongue immediately pressing against their soft undersides and eagerly delivering a hefty coating of saliva. He might need to make a mental note about looking into proper lube, certainly hoping this would not be the only instance of sex he would experience with the other man, but right now he was lost in a swirl of bliss that he was getting sex with him at all, automatically willing to move things along with the go-ahead.

Cavendish felt a flutter in his chest to see his fingers taken in so readily. That low, grizzly-toned rumble was divine as well, as were the tingles his fingers were experiencing while they were dragged with wet, preparing friction. Dakota's eyes were half-lidded and stared at him with purpose, only causing further stirs of anticipation now in Cavendish's gut. He could hardly believe he was going to do this with his best friend of so many years, though he still couldn't want to any less as he stared back at Dakota's expression saying it wanted nothing more in this world right now than him.

Dakota's other hand pushed at the elastic of his boxers, his hips wriggling to get them off and prove how ready their owner was to have Cavendish. The taller man couldn't help his eyes sliding down towards the action, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for looking and as well that he was about to see his partner's nethers for the first time.

Still, he looked, wanting to take in all of the olive-skinned body he'd been exploring and would soon be pleasuring. This entire activity was about enjoying one another to the fullest, just as they'd done on the rest of their date.

Dakota's member was plump and half-filled already as it was brought out into the open, even without being touched. It also perked a bit more like realizing it was being looked at. Dakota's cheeks deepened in hue and he squirmed to be displaying himself so completely now, definitely self-conscious in front of Cavendish, particularly fearing he might have had too _much_ hair there, but at the same time loving how he had never felt a moment more personal than this with him.

Cavendish's gaze was soft, endeared and adoring as he watched Dakota wiggle bashfully and give him that look that pleaded with him to not hate what he saw. It would be so terrible to come this far only to end up not being attractive enough naked for the man one loved so much. Cavendish aimed to put all those fears Dakota had been internalizing regarding losing him to rest. In fact, as he let the heated bubble in his torso rise, finding this moment just as personal and enticing, he smiled.

Hand coming forward to caress that shaft with a tender, approving knead, the Brit assured, “Just as right as the rest...”

A vocal gush slid out of Dakota's nose now as his head fell back with Cavendish's fingers still between his lips, hips arching slightly. Cavendish touching him there..! He could feel his organ pulse in that slender grip as it was fondled, filling perhaps far too readily and reaching an eager full erection simply from that, but that Dakota couldn't care about. He was unashamed about how much desire he had for the other man, and with Cavendish's approval he was not about to be concerned with showing it off. No, now he _let_ himself be erect, all of his gratitude and love pouring into Cavendish's palm.

Noting the rather instant spike in arousal after he'd touched Dakota, Cavendish was caught off-guard, but only for a second. Then he hummed fondly. This was another thing that only made sense after so much strained patience. As well, Cavendish was ignoring his own nethers for fear of similar rusty nerves causing him to finish before he could satisfy Dakota's.

“Such flattery~,” he gave in response to that rod's reaction, “Though, would you mind turning over? I feel as though it would be easier to prepare you that way.” His fingers were more than well-coated by this point, and he took them pointedly from Dakota's servicing mouth.

Though he'd loved having any part of Cavendish in his mouth, Dakota let those fingers go readily. He agreed. He was more than ready for those elsewhere. He'd imagined doing so much with Cavendish, but here, only getting to feel him for the first time, he could not want anything but to get straight to the point. He didn't think he would last through any side games anyway.

Obediently, the wavy-haired Italian rolled himself over and lifted his hips for easy access, feeling his face heat further to be presenting himself like this for the other. Oh, he wanted this so badly..! It was finally happening and it was so much more than his imagination could ever prepare him for..!

“You'd just better not take those shorts off while I'm not looking..!” he half-warned. It would be so unfair.

A tut. “Duly noted.” Cavendish would agree, that would be most unfair to the other. His dry hand reached to palm Dakota's left buttock, admiring the sight he was given. His partner really could be attractive if he let himself think about it, and certainly it was appealing to have him openly anticipating contact this way. “Now then, get ready. Here comes the first.”

Touching his middle finger gently to the younger man's entrance, he felt another flutter at the way it tensed with an eager gasp from Dakota, and then was forced to relax as the man clearly wanted to be entered. Cavendish found his first knuckle welcomed rather easily, and only had to push a bit more to slide in up to his second. His other hand slipped around the other's waist to deliver another massaging fondle to Dakota's dangling manhood.

“Haaaaah~..!!” Unseen to Cavendish, Dakota's face tensed as he called out and his fingers clenched against the cushions as he felt an unprecedented boil in his belly. Oh god, he _never_ could have been prepared for how good it felt to have this man inside him!

What Cavendish did see was Dakota's member twitch and ejaculate, and he blinked as the shorter man now buried his forehead into an elbow, hips wriggling as he continued gushing in clear arousal.

Before Cavendish could ask, Dakota's other hand waved behind him while he insisted, “Don't worry about it, keep going, keep going..!” It was just pent-up lust. He was too sensitive. But he did _not_ want to stop! He was _not_ done.

Indeed, Cavendish noted that Dakota hadn't actually softened in the slightest after cumming, and in fact his member was absolutely rock-hard against his fingers. Impressive. Also, another spot of flatter that he could be so arousing to someone.

A short heated breath exiting his own lips, Cavendish wanted to increase his efforts to relieve some of that long-hidden arousal and moved his finger inside Dakota, seeking to send it deeper and find the spot inside him that would feel even better than the man was apparently already feeling. His other hand stayed on Dakota's shaft, but was careful, squeezing gingerly but not wanting to cause the man to truly spend himself before he was ready.

Dakota continued gushing husky notes of approval, not even trying to keep them contained as he rocked himself in time with the delicate, slender digit digging deeper and deeper into him. When it crooked against his walls his spine stretched like a cat's and he groaned all the louder. Even if he was cloudy with lust and would have taken anything Cavendish gave him, the Brit was obviously experienced with those hands of his. He knew how to touch a man, too, which only made it better. Dakota had imagined Cavendish would be good in bed thanks to experience and high energy, and could not have been less disappointed to find he was right. Now he squirmed again in anticipation as he imagined how his thrusts would feel.

“Put the other one in,” he groaned thickly, “I can take it. You can even do a third if you wanna be extra sure.”

The grey-haired man was seeing that. Dakota's hole was taking his middle finger quite well already, and the way he moved his body in time with those hilting forward motions suggested at least a fair share of experience being in this position. It wasn't terribly shocking, as Cavendish already knew Dakota swung every which way under the sun, but he'd expected a bit more rustiness from the little entrance. Absently, he wondered if Dakota had been using it in self-pleasure...possibly while thinking about this exact scenario.

Blushing to even consider himself the source of someone's fantasies, Cavendish put that thought out of mind and opted to simply give the other man what he'd asked for, finding the implication that he could take more girth than assumed flustering enough. His second wetted finger nuzzled up beside the first and joined it on the next push forward, only meeting a bit more resistance as they now both plunged into that hot tunnel and Dakota moaned louder and even more freely.

Those fingers delved deeper together, spreading themselves to loosen the hole already on its own way to accepting a larger span. Then at last they found that spot far inside Dakota and the man arched strongly, calling out in gravelly need before pleading for Cavendish to stop touching his shaft if he was going for his prostate, otherwise he was going to cum again.

Cavendish obliged, letting go of Dakota's manhood and instead letting that hand wander to skate over the man's back, massaging there in encouraging fondness instead. He saw goosebumps form along Dakota's spine and felt some accomplishment. It was just as satisfying to hear every breathy vocalization he earned with the forward motions of his fingers. Oh, it felt so good to know he was pleasuring another well, and he certainly didn't feel he'd lost the touch with how open Dakota was about enjoying his hands.

It didn't take long before Dakota was mad with need to be filled with something other than fingers. He felt plenty loose and more than ready and burst, “Cav..! Hauh, C-Cav, I'm good..! J-Just rail me already...uhn~..! I need you to rail me..!”

“Oh my...” So forward. Cavendish had felt an unavoidable growing pressure in his groin as he'd watched Dakota's growing pleasure under him, but now he felt a hard, heavy pit form in an intense wanton spike. Without question, he pulled his fingers from the well-loosened tunnel and only passed the slick, appealing opening a glance as he granted, “By all means, then~...”

Dakota gladly flopped himself back over onto his back, eyes locking readily onto the other man's crotch. He felt a spark of gladness to see a tent had formed there to signify Cavendish was enjoying himself. He couldn't even be bothered by the silly Professor Time graphic this time. Especially not when Cavendish reached for his waistband and, after his own short second of self-consciousness, pulled it down.

A greedy grin met the view as Dakota ogled it. Cavendish could have been the puniest guy in the world and he still would have been turned on...but Cavendish wasn't puny. His organ was a couple inches longer than Dakota's, though just about as wide, with a slight delicate curve backwards, giving it an overall slender appearance. It might not have been huge, but it certainly was enough to get the job done. And it was Cavendish's, so Dakota loved it.

“Aw, yeah...” he growled with just as much greed as his stare, “Gimme.”

Holding his boxers in a ball of slight nervousness, Cavendish had to chuckle at such a blatant demand to have him, Dakota splaying his legs and placing his arms back comfortably to accentuate his point. The Brit couldn't say he'd ever had a reaction quite like that. It was again, so flattering. Dakota just made him feel so utterly accepted and valued, no matter what. No matter how perfectly average or even underwhelming something about him might be. He dropped his final piece of clothing by the wayside in turn and shuffled closer, a warm ardor glowing brightly in his chest for the Italian.

“If you insist...”

As he was about to spit on his palm, he found Dakota's hands on his thighs, signaling him to halt. “Actually,” the shorter man interjected, “I know I said I need it and everything, and I do, but hang on just one more sec. Lemme lube that up for you, eh?”

Cavendish's brow went up as he registered what the other was proposing. It seemed Dakota just couldn't help wanting one more piece of intimate contact after finally being given access to Cavendish's entirety. With an almost stunned “very well”, he moved forward with the pull of Dakota's hands, straddling the man up higher with his knees and bending forward to place his hands on the arm of the couch. As he lowered himself to his elbows, he felt lewd to sense the other man's face so close to the tip of his dangling manhood, but that was nothing compared to the next second, when Dakota grasped around his waist with both hands and tugged him into his mouth.

“Ouhh~!” It was Cavendish's turn to exclaim with a jolt of arousal. Having not been touched at all so far, he could feel every last nerve waking up at this contact, his shaft bobbing and firming quite readily. The fresh groan Dakota delivered as he felt that against his palate only made Cavendish hotter. It had been quite a while since he'd felt a mouth anywhere near his member, and yet here Dakota was, smothering it in attention just as readily as if it were an everyday occurrence.

He was good at it, too. He put a lot of emphasis on his tongue, likely to aid in lubrication, but also to add pressure and tease the tip of the rod he was glazing. He took it out of his mouth as well, to press his lips into the side or push the thing up against Cavendish's belly, leaving his jaw slack as he carried on painting that organ with his wet, slippery saliva. Then the tip was back between his lips and his neck was bobbing to work the man over him up and get him willing to use that rod to its fullest.

That was certainly the effect these actions were having on Cavendish. His chest rose and fell with weight as he sucked in deep breaths through his mouth. Dakota was so eager to please him here, he couldn't help but want to share this hazing bliss with him. It had been so long, Cavendish had practically forgotten how good an act this sexual could feel..! But in the short couple of minutes Dakota greedily slathered his most sensitive part with desire, Cavendish most definitely found himself antsy to put that part to use.

Letting Cavendish out of his mouth one last time with a satisfied huff, Dakota fell back flat to the couch and admired the glistening result in front of his face. “Ok, now gimme.” He also let Cavendish's waist go, and the face he saw when the thinner man lowered his frame to align with his was astonishing. It was also gorgeous. Cavendish was so flushed, and his eyes glistened with an adoration Dakota was all-too familiar with wearing himself.

“You asked for it~,” Cavendish gave in cheeky warning. Then he reached for the thigh Dakota had splaying sideways off the couch, lifting it so he could have better access, and then he grabbed for his member to keep it steady as he pushed into Dakota without hesitation.

In tandem, they both groaned this time, neither believing how perfect this fit felt. Dakota was seeing stars as he felt the man he loved filling him so completely, the tip of his manhood grazing his prostate just right. Cavendish was dizzied to feel just how comfortable and _snug_ Dakota managed to be around him. It seemed despite practiced use of his hole, the man was not overly loose, and he could still hug his entrance in a very welcoming fashion. It was exactly like the man's arms – inviting, loving and so very, very warm.

Once in as far as he could go, pelvis pressed firm against Dakota's hindquarters, Cavendish kept good on his word and gave one hard, experimental thrust as well, testing his ground. The give was fair, and Dakota's head rolled desirously. So, intent on giving Dakota the good “railing” he so asked for, Cavendish shifted to all fours around the other, letting his elbows fall beside Dakota's rib cage as his forearms slipped around him. One hand fisted the back of the stout man's curly locks while the other gripped his shoulder, and then Cavendish was thrusting properly, fast and hard and with purpose.

Automatically, Dakota's knees raised to clutch at Cavendish's sides. His own hands found Cavendish's upper arms and he squeezed helplessly as he called out in astounded bliss. His back arched against the man pressing him down despite there not being enough room to do so properly. He felt caged by Cavendish as the man began this ravishing assault, but he could not find even one single thing wrong with it. Cavendish's hands clawing at his hair and shoulder. Cavendish's chest pressing into his as he bore down on him, their hearts clashing in rhythm as they beat desperately for each other. Cavendish's body in his own hold as he clung to the man now mercilessly plowing into him. And of course, jolt after jolt of electricity pulsing through him as Cavendish, that fussy, silly, clumsy, ridiculous, brilliant man Dakota loved, stuffed him full of it with every perfectly euphoric thrust of his hips.

The pair's eyes met as this went on, both able to open them after a moment and curious to see the other.

Cavendish was struck by how ravishing Dakota looked in this moment. He was shining with more of that unabashed love on his face than ever before, hot and gleaming, and it nestled in Cavendish's core. Without glasses, it was so ultimately visible in those sparkling chocolatey eyes. He couldn't help but feel motivated, and some of that love must have leaked into him as it overflowed, for his own eyelids lowered as he felt he could relate to the other man just a little bit. He'd always loved Dakota as a friend, but surely, after today he could see that underlying tension for more being allowed from his side as well.

Dakota could see how driven Cavendish was to give him his pleasure. He was succeeding. Indeed the man had lost none of his usual energy here, and he drilled all of it into his partner, even offering a small smirk as he redoubled his efforts to catch Dakota staring at him in such marvel. Dakota gushed all over again. He could not believe this. He could probably die happy now, not that he wanted to. Cavendish was loving him. Cavendish might even come to be _in_ love with him as much as Dakota loved him. There was no way Dakota would want to miss what this relationship turned into. And right now, he wanted to keep soaking in the euphoria that stemmed from every shock his prostate experienced.

Tirelessly, Cavendish thrust onward, his soft pants and short moans mixing with Dakota's longer cries and desperate, needy caterwauling. The man felt so good to hold. He felt good as he clung, like he truly did need Cavendish. That feeling was mutual. Neither could be without the other in their life.

The air thick with the fog of lust, Cavendish found he couldn't be satisfied with simply looking at Dakota's face and lowered his for further affection. His lips pressed the soft flesh of Dakota's neck, adoring the vibrations from the man's calls buzzing against them. The hand hooked around Dakota's shoulder loosened and came to caress the man's pectoral, delicate forefinger and thumb pinching at his nipple to tease even more pleasure out of him. The hand buried in Dakota's hair clenched harder, as it was now the strongest anchoring point.

Dakota's neck craned more openly with the tugs to his hair, exposing him as well to the hungry advances of Cavendish's lips. He could barely contain himself between the points of stimulation he was being granted. His own hands flew from Cavendish's arms to clutch just under them, pulling the Brit closer by his ribs.

His own body continued to undulate in rhythm with Cavendish's hips. It made every thrust feel deeper and harder, and he just couldn't get enough of them. In fact, the next sound to vibrate against Cavendish's lips would be a raspy plea of, “Harder~...”

Cavendish hummed in turn, and was only glad to oblige, pausing only to shift the stance of his knees for a better driving angle before ramming back into Dakota at full force. The man's entrance continued to hug its invader with such need. It was incredibly endearing, not to mention was causing Cavendish to see a few fireworks as he pushed himself with just as much need into those slick, hot walls over and over.

The change in angle made it feel new and amazing all over again, and Dakota continued to have nothing but garbled praises to exclaim at the ceiling. He felt a forming pressure in his abdomen and knew he couldn't last at this pace much longer. Reaching to touch himself so Cavendish could stay focused, Dakota informed him, “I'm getting close...cum with me this time.”

Well, that certainly sounded appealing. Cavendish hadn't been thinking he would be able to last as long as he would have liked anyway. He would have preferred to revel in the joys of another body just a bit longer upon getting to re-experience them, but perhaps next time.

“Right with you, Dakota...” he huffed, not letting up his pace as they both pushed for a finish.

It wasn't another minute, and almost immediately after Dakota burst this second time, calling out in his sharpest rasp yet, he felt Cavendish tense and let out a short, strained whine. What he didn't expect was that that wasn't the end of it, and instead he let his eyes roll back into his head, mouth gaping as Cavendish stirred his hips in the aftermath before greedily slamming forward for one last burst of sparse, more purposeful, intermittent thrusts.

Only after the fourth one of those, when he felt himself actually softening, did Cavendish truly let his hips rest and his posture sag. He sighed in deep contentment.

Shaken by this extra wave of rapture crashing through the aftermath of his climax, Dakota found his vision again and was able to look at the other man. “Wow. Milking it 'til the last second, huh? You are a _beast,_ boyo _._ ”

Now registering what he had done in the clarity of having climaxed, and feeling very embarrassed by that comment, Cavendish blushed and shrank as Dakota beamed at him. “Terribly sorry...” he mumbled hastily, “It seems I was caught up in the moment, and...” He hadn't _meant_ to use Dakota's body like that, selfishly reaching for whatever last shudders of pleasure he could get. He hoped it hadn't been over-stimulating for the other. Not everyone enjoyed such things.

Dakota waved a hand passively, smirking at how timid Cavendish turned as the moment passed. “Nooo, no...I love it.” A fond sigh as he watched Cavendish's face shift like finding that a relief. “I still love _you,_ too. Um...assuming that's cool to say. If not, forget I just did.”

Cavendish had blushed all over again to hear those words while he was still inside the younger man. Dakota was still as blunt as ever, and most unashamed of himself. Though as well, hearing those words now, after a delightful day together, a great showing of support, and now this unexpected passionate exchange, it sent a small, bright glow lighting in Cavendish's chest. It was still intimidating, but he also still didn't think he wanted to stifle it. This time around, nurturing that fondness seemed like the thing to do.

“Actually, I...believe it _is_ 'cool'...” he relented, and moved to pull himself out of the other. “Just don't expect me to be dropping it quite so carelessly. I'm not even sure I'm quite there yet. But I'm seeing it.” At the very least, he wanted to let Dakota love him.

This was honestly better a reaction than Dakota could have ever hoped. He sat himself up with a small grunt, knowing his insides were going to be feeling this tomorrow but hardly caring, and beamed more brightly at the Brit. “Really? Hey, if you think you'll _wanna_ say it, you take all the time you _need!”_ He would probably really die happy if Cavendish told him he loved him.

Cavendish looked away bashfully for a moment. Such adorable excitement. And it really was adorable, too. He supposed he could finally see what Dakota meant by calling his own actions “cute” all this time.

“In time. Yes,” he agreed, “But for now, I hope _some_ of your urges have been addressed.”

“Boy, have they...”

“Ahem. Yes, well, that said, it's been an eventful day, and I'm starting to feel rather like turning in.”

A nod from Dakota. “Also fair. I'm prob'ly gonna be wicked sore tomorrow. Definitely gonna wanna sleep that off. Can I sleep over~..?”

Cavendish blinked at him. “Naturally. I wasn't planning on kicking you out after being done with you or some such, if that's what you were thinking.”

A shrug from the wavy-haired man. “Better safe than sorry.” Maybe Cav wouldn't have been up for something like that. And Dakota had just kind of learned to ask about staying after sleeping with someone. More often than not in his experience, it wasn't a given. “Speaking of, though, where _is_ your bed?” A curious eye was cast around the single-room apartment. His normal observational skills hadn't been in use when he'd come in, focused more on helping Cavendish.

“You're sitting on it.”

Dakota blinked now and looked down at the couch.

Cavendish went on, patting the back of it, “Yes, remember these? Couch bed..!”

A fresh grin formed on Dakota's lips as he was amused. “Wow, that takes me back. Both of us, together on a couch bed. I thought for sure you would've sprung for a twin. Or'd you just never get around to it? Guess I should've asked _before_ we got into things, though, huh..? Prob'ly woulda been more comfortable.”

A tut from Cavendish and he returned a slight shrug. “You seemed a bit hot and bothered to hold off another instant...and to be fair, I saw where you were coming from. It worked out.”

A returned chuckle. “Yeah it did. You need help setting it up, then?”

“That's quite alright. I believe _you_ should focus on brushing your teeth. I shan't even _think_ about kissing you again until you do, and I know you're going to ask.”

Dakota blinked. “You don't kiss after blowjobs? If I'd _rimmed_ you, maybe I could understand, but...”

Cavendish flushed again as the topic was talked about so casually. “Just brush your teeth!” he barked, pointing towards the exit, “A spare brush is in the caddy by the door!”

Now Dakota snorted. Fussy, fussy. Still, he threw his boxers back on, gathered up his discarded clothes and headed for the door, finding the toiletry caddy Cavendish was talking about and only asking which way the bathroom was before departing.

Cavendish couldn't believe Dakota could be so immodest as to just wander around in his undergarments. Actually, yes he could. But still! Then again, from what he recalled, the man liked sleeping in his undergarments as well, and they hadn't planned on things turning out like this. Cavendish did not own a bathrobe he could lend, so perhaps Dakota's immodesty worked out for him here.

In the time it took Dakota to return, Cavendish had gotten himself into his pastel periwinkle pajamas and gotten the bed all made up. Dakota passed off the bathroom caddy and the Brit took his turn getting washed up. It felt like they almost hadn't missed a day in sharing a routine like this. They really were familiar with one another.

Getting under the single cover, that one detail that was different from their days as roommates, Cavendish felt one bit of unease as Dakota came close and wrapped his arms around his torso in a firm snuggle while he lay on his back. It just triggered something in his memory. He'd forgotten Dakota liked to cuddle while sleeping, but previously it had always been an annoyance. Cavendish's initial reaction was that it was unwanted this time, too, but after a moment of scanning the man smiling so contentedly against him, decided perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

Then Dakota spoke. “So, how 'bout a kiss good night~? You said you wouldn't kiss me unless I brushed my teeth, and I brushed my teeeeeth~..!”

A grunt. “I said I wouldn't _think_ about it until you did.”

A teasing grin spread in Dakota's lips. “Yeah, so think about it. The time is now.”

Cavendish's face hardened as he was pestered, pointedly keeping his face towards the ceiling.

Dakota's face hovered closer until it was only an inch from his cheek. “C'moooon, kiss meeeeee~...you know you liked it~...”

“That is besides the point. Maybe I don't _feel_ like it right now.”

“Pff. Yeah, and why not? Why're you pouting?”

“I'm not pouting. I'm proving a point.”

“Ok, so what point is that?”

“Maybe I just didn't like your _tone._ ”

Dakota smirked harder. Ah, these games were classic. “So how am I supposed to ask? You want me to say 'pretty please'?” A clear of his throat before he made his eyes uncharacteristically large and took his hands from around Cavendish to clasp them by his cheek. His voice was an extremely strange heightened pitch as he cooed sweetly, “Pwetty pwease, Cavvy-Wavvy~? Just one wittle kissy nighty-wighty~?”

Cavendish stared at the man in obvious unsettle. “...never do that again.”

“I won't if you kiss me.”

Now Cavendish sighed, finding his will weakening as it ever did when Dakota wanted to play the wheedling game. As well, he would very much like to never witness that disturbing cutesy performance again. “Oh, very well.”

Rolling and reaching for the man's jawline, Cavendish came forward and planted a soft, pleasant kiss on his partner's lips. In response, Dakota melted into it and placed his own hand on the one Cavendish cupped him with. Cavendish could feel Dakota smiling, but whether it was out of victory or merely happiness, he couldn't tell. Probably both.

Pulling back, Cavendish could say it had still been an enjoyable exchange. Dakota continued grinning and said breezily, “I like your mustache. It tickles.”

The other chose to remain huffy as he gave a flat, “Good night.” His eye was caught by something as he looked at the other, however, and his brow raised as his eyes lowered to Dakota's neck, finding a small crop of fresh red marks where he'd been kissing earlier. Had he been suckling that hard..?

Dakota noticed the distraction and tried to look down too. “What, what are you looking at?” Realizing, he perked and offered a palm towards his neck. “Oh yeah, these? I spotted 'em in the bathroom. Nice, huh? Badges of pride..!”

Cavendish was a bit confused. “I'd been about to apologize for that...pride?” His face sterned again. “You'd better not be planning on showing those off..!”

“What, you jealous~? You want me to give you some, too?”

A blush there. “Of course not..! It's unseemly! It's...ungentlemanly! I shouldn't have marred you at all..!”

Dakota sighed, but his smile remained. “You're too modest, Cav. But hey, don't worry about it, it's Winter, I'll be wearing a scarf anyway. But also, go ahead, 'mar' me however you want. I like wearing claim tags. Feels personal.”

More blushing. Claim tags..? What a strange way of referring to such markings. “Really..? You...like them?”

A nod. “It's like a reminder you're someone you love's. Makes me happy to look at.” Seeing Cavendish blink like he was considering that viewpoint and almost agreeing with it, he pointed out, “Doesn't have to be where you can see it, either.”

Another blink. The way Dakota thought about it was actually very sweet. Cavendish had always been told such things were uncouth. “Perhaps next time you can show me what you mean,” he granted.

Dakota snuggled back up against him, beaming again in hope. “So there's gonna be a next time~?”

“I would assume. Now for real this time. Good night.” Cavendish could guess that Dakota had more than one round of physical affection to get out of himself, and the older man couldn't see himself denying another. He'd enjoyed this. And he wanted to love Dakota. What was a bit of intimacy while he caught up?

As Cavendish closed his eyes pointedly, Dakota just smiled some more and relaxed into his cuddle with a sigh. “Good night, Cav~.”


	12. Chapter 12

Cavendish awoke to find his partner deeply entangled around him, just as expected. His grip was slack and his hold sloppy, but it seemed he'd never once shifted from the British man's side. His cheek was crushed against Cavendish's shoulder and he'd definitely drooled a bit from his slack jaw.

The taller man sighed seeing the small patch of darker hue near the breast pocket of his pajamas, but couldn't find himself being too terribly angry. It was strangely endearing. He felt a small mix of sadness and affection knowing how strongly Dakota felt for him, and a desire to let him sleep. He probably _was_ feeling a bit tuckered.

With only a soft ruffle to his teddy-like companion's hair, Cavendish got himself out of Dakota's arms, having to use some force, but needing to get a start on the day. He headed to the part of his room he'd set up for food preparation and began brewing some coffee.

Dakota would shift a few times, sniffing in his sleep before his eyes opened with a smile to realize the scent of coffee was real. He would also realize the other side of the bed was empty, but he was rather nonplussed as he put the pieces together and sat up, grunting only slightly as his insides protested, and looked over the back of the couch with a drowsy beam. It looked like Cavendish had been cooking as well. He was still in his pajamas.

"Awh. There you are. Heh, I thought for a second you'd gone and walked out on me, even if this is _your_ place."

Cavendish's face sterned there as a particular memory came back to him. "I would _never._ " The tone was quite serious and adamant. At one point he'd considered Dakota the type to be so flippant, but now he saw with certainty that the other man was not the kind to play such cruel pranks.

Brow going up slightly as he registered that tone, Dakota realized he must have struck some nerve by accident. "Um...sorry. It was just a joke. Didn't mean to offend you or anything..."

With a cleansing sigh, Cavendish came to the bedside with two mugs in hand and sat next to his partner to hand him his coffee. "It's not your fault. Let's just say I've been unfortunate enough to experience that cruelty first-hand." As he passed over the coffee mug, he leaned in to give Dakota a brief peck on the lips along with it. "But that aside, good morning."

A flutter of joy was unavoidable with the belated greeting. "Yeah, morning." It was easy to see Cavendish had been affected by some morning after in his past, though. Possibly more than one. Dakota understood a bit more about why the man had come off as a bit reserved towards relationships in general, particularly with him when he'd thought the Italian was completely passive about them. "Just so you know, though, I'm never gonna pull something like that on you, either."

Cavendish passed the other a small, grateful smile. "Yes, I believe I've figured that out. But thank you."

Dakota smiled back. "Hey, whoever was stupid enough to bail on _you_ , too, well, they don't know what they were missing. Their loss, my gain." He put his arm around the other as they both sat on the edge of the bed and had their first sip of the day, taking pride to see Cavendish hide a wider, sheepish smile in his cup. Not to linger on unpleasant memories and roll with the improved mood, Dakota next asked, "So that kiss...no regrets, I'm guessing? That's a good sign~."

Now Cavendish hemmed and let his eyes take a composing drift up towards a corner of the ceiling before letting them meet Dakota again. "No regrets," he granted, "But strangely, this really doesn't feel so much _different_ at all in the aftermath. It still feels very 'best friendsy' to have you here like this."

A soft note out of Dakota's nose as his beam didn't falter. "Yeah, it doesn't feel so much different for me, either. Just a bit freer. No more secrets. But hey, from what I hear, the best partners are still best friends underneath. That's gotta be a good sign too, right? If it feels weird, maybe you can just call me your _boy_ friend instead. Is it safe to assume that's where this is going?"

A timid sort of tittering snort went into Cavendish's coffee this time, and the lowered mug was replaced by his hovering fingertips as he looked at the other with a very bashful smile. He realized that yes, that was exactly what this was. The tension was gone. It _did_ feel much freer to have cleared the air between them, and that extra layer of warmth and comfort in the air was because as much as they were still friends, they were also now more. It just felt so strangely natural because, well...this might be it. They already knew everything about each other, could not imagine a life without the other in it, and now they were finally on the same wavelength regarding their relationship.

Just sensing the comfort in this atmosphere, and feeling excited as he was hearing the idea of declaring the other his boyfriend made Cavendish see that perhaps he'd been repressing more over the last decade than he could have thought. He was quite good at fooling himself, wasn't he? "Tee hee...boyfriend...oh, it's been such a while...but yes, quite fitting indeed..! That's what we are..! Boyfriends!" How thrilling to use the word!

"God, you're adorable." Unable to stand it, Dakota tugged the other into him and gave his officially-declared boyfriend a good smooch. Cavendish giggled some more about that, but both hemmed fondly into it before they'd parted. Dakota gave an airy sigh. "Yeah, I'm gonna love gettin' to do _that_ now. Even if you do have morning coffee breath."

Cavendish smirked around an indignant 'hmph'. "So do you."

"So I do."

Sitting taller, Cavendish brushed his wrist daintily over the back of the couch towards his makeshift kitchen. "When you're hungry, I've also prepared a breakfast strudel. Nothing too fancy, but one can't survive on coffee alone."

Dakota's brow went up as he looked over to the counter and back. "You call homemade strudel 'not fancy'? I can barely make pancakes..!" His face became a sharp tease. "You hoity-toity...I bet you just wanted to show off."

Cavendish put his free wrist on his hip, blushing at the accusation as well as offended. "It's not like I made blackened pheasant under glass..!"

"Ok, yeah, I don't even know what that _is..._ not gonna ask, either. It sounds burnt, and burnt is gross."

"It most certainly is _not '_ gross'..!"

Dakota just shrugged and smiled. "Nice to see you acting so normal. I was hoping our date would get you to de-stress...but especially the sex ought to have done it. Woof."

Cavendish grunted in further distaste to hear the other talk so casually about something so intimate, but also blushed a bit at the flattering tone. As well, he could admit that during the entire course of their date, he certainly hadn't been worrying about being jobless.

Standing, the Brit asked, "Speaking of, are you good to walk?"

A sly, playful expression crossed Dakota's face now. "Oh, I dunno...you really did a number on me. I might have to just stay here and let you wait on me as consolation." He reclined back against his pillow.

Smugly, Cavendish crossed his arms and indicated towards the other man with his coffee mug. "Actually, if you were feeling stiff, I was going to recommend a few stretches. So in that case, come on, up-up..!" One foot came out to prod the lazy Italian into rising.

"What? Ohhhh, no, Cav, don't make me exercise..!" Dakota instantly regretted everything as his plan to lounge around backfired.

"Well, then I suppose no strudel for you," Cavendish concluded, stepping away to put his coffee mug in the sink, "I'm afraid it's either exercise or starve."

"Uuuugh, cruel and unusual punishment, Cav..! Shouldn't last night have _counted_ as the exercise..?"

"Precisely why you need to work it _off._ Come now, you'll feel much better after."

Unfortunately, Dakota had to let Cavendish win this one. He knew the older man was right, looking out for his health as always, and the strudel smelled so good. So, Dakota relented to getting out of bed and letting Cavendish walk him through a set of stretches and light movements that would get their bodies limbered. Cavendish was naturally much more flexible, and if nothing else, as least Dakota could appreciate watching his teacher bending about next to him.

Once all was said and done, too, Dakota had to admit he _did_ feel much more energized and less sore. The strudel was a nice reward. After getting the bed folded up and finishing their morning routines, the pair then had to figure out what they were doing with the rest of the day. It wasn't like they had work.

In light of that, the pair decided to mosey down to the local job center and see if they could find anything that looked interesting. The only thing wrong with this was that as they exited the apartment, they would find one of Cavendish's older neighbors out on the balcony walkway in front of the row of doors. She'd been overlooking the edge, holding onto a fluffy orange cat and stroking it, almost like waiting for them. Her hair was still in curlers as she turned towards the sound of their exit with a judging stare.

Cavendish was immediately bashful before the woman even said anything, but she more than confirmed what the taller man had realized and complained that she hadn't thought Cavendish was the type to be so thoughtlessly lewd, about how all that ruckus last night had disturbed poor Tibbles.

They'd all looked at the cat there, who gave the most disinterested blink a cat could give.

Nevertheless, Cavendish had given a meek grin, tipped his hat and stuttered his way through a hasty apology while trying to hide Dakota from view with his body and shooing the shorter man to depart behind him as he too stepped backwards to escape the scene.

Once the pair had ushered themselves away and were a good halfway down the ramp leading to the parking lot, Cavendish wrung his hands and professed, "Oh, I can't believe what a stupid oversight I've made! How many other neighbors must have heard?" He just _knew_ some of them had to have been peeking for a glimpse of the guest he'd brought home while they left. "I feel as though I can never show my face to anyone here again."

Dakota was very nonplussed next to him. "Big deal, so we made a little noise. That was _our_ moment. We needed it. And I say it was worth a little embarrassment."

Cavendish had to give pause there. Well...yes. He wouldn't take back anything that had happened between them. It had all been such a relief, and it still felt so right to have everything out in the open. To have that romantic mentality set so officially.

Dakota brushed off, "So we'll just try to be a little quieter from now on, no biggie. If you want, we can even have the next sleepover at my place. Although..." A thoughtful knuckle graced his chin as they stepped onto ground level, "Speaking of never showing your face here again...should we keep living in separate places anyway? I mean it's cheaper living together, and we don't have _jobs_ right now, and well...y'know. Not to go jumping any guns..."

This was a fair point as well. Couples generally didn't live apart, and this hadn't felt like they'd missed a moment as roommates in the first place. Plus, yes, it really was better for a budget. Distracted by this idea, Cavendish's posture relaxed some as he pondered. "No, you actually raise a reasonable point..." he noted, then passed the other a smirk. "When did you get so responsible?"

Dakota grinned back and gave a breezy shrug. "Dunno. Maybe you rubbed off on me somewhere along the line. That or it's all those years of practice taking _care_ of you...fussbudget."

The two shared a hard look of mutual knowing chide there before turning to face the parking lot and coming to a stop. Now Cavendish raised his forearms and clenched his fists in a mild display of irritation. "Oh, fiddle-faddle..! They've taken the car..!"

Indeed, where the time car had been parked last night, there was just an empty parking space. It was safe to assume it had been repossessed. A hem from the older gentleman. "Well, we knew it was going to happen sooner or later..." The time agency didn't dilly-dally when it came to banishment, it seemed.

Dakota did frown upon seeing the lack of a vehicle, but didn't see it as too much to worry about. The pair had used plenty of other methods of transportation. "Yup. Good thing I didn't fill it. Looks like we're takin' the bus..!"

A distasteful grunt. "I think I might rather walk." Public transport was so filthy. And crowded.

"My butt disagrees," Dakota input flatly, but then perked, "Oo, remember when we had a tandem? We should get a tandem, that was fun." Remembering his own words, he then supposed, "Of course...maybe not right _now_..." That wouldn't be fun to sit on.

Cav hadn't gotten quite so much enjoyment out of having to share a bicycle. But he couldn't help being endeared by the way Dakota spoke. Such a range of emotions he could go through in such a short time, and such excitement over the silliest things. He found his lips turning up in a hint of amusement and relented, "Perhaps not...but alright, another fair point. The bus it is."

The ride was cramped, but Dakota's knack for making small talk with strangers managed to keep it from getting unbearable. From there, the pair entered a different type of agency: the unemployment variety. Cavendish had never been in one of these, but Dakota knew his way around. The two perused job boards, sat together and looked through listings.

As ever when he'd hunted for jobs in previous years, Dakota was all-too aware of how few practical skills he had, and how terrible not even finishing high school looked. As such, he just felt like taking a stab at anything that caught his fancy. He would try underwater welding, why not? Who needed experience when you were a smooth talker?

Cavendish, on the other hand, was confident in his skills but overwhelmed with choice. He'd always had a career set in mind. He'd never had to have a job just to pay the bills. What ought he pick? Chef? Piano teacher? Crop duster?

"Do you think sky writing could be an interesting venture..?" he wondered openly.

Dakota blinked. "You can fly a plane..?"

Off-handed, Cav returned, "Of course I can. I attended flight school as an extracurricular in University."

A moment of absorbing silence. "And you didn't die."

Now the grey-haired man shot the other a sharp glance of annoyance. " _No,_ I did not _die._ Is all of your input going to be so sage, or shall I just give up asking your opinion?"

Gaining a light smile, Dakota shook his head gently. "I'm just surprised. You have got the weirdest skill set. But hey, just makes learning about you more fun." While Cav was busy looking flattered, Dakota breezed, "Anyway, I think that sounds like a cool option. Likewise, you think I should go for 'concert sound technician' or 'hedgehog care specialist'?"

A quirked brow. "And you have any skills related to either?"

"No, but they sound neat. I like music. Also hedgehogs are cute."

Cavendish let his face fall softly into his palm.

A few hours later, the two had a fair selection of applications made and had taken a well-earned break for lunch. They were having Thai today, and after they'd discussed the curry and stir-fry they would soon be ordering, Dakota brought up a topic he felt hadn't been addressed enough.

"So, you never did give a strong answer," he pointed out, "You gonna want to get a place together? Just think, now that we don't have to live where Block makes us, we can even get something with a real bathroooom~..!"

"Well, one of us seems to be quite keen on the idea," the Brit observed flatly, then more lightly added, "Although you do make a rather strong persuasive argument." A bathroom one wouldn't have to trek to; wouldn't that be nice?

"So is that a yes?"

Agreeing to the sense it would make, as well as remembering the humiliation of confronting his neighbor after such a raucous night, Cavendish granted, "Alright. Yes. After lunch we begin looking for a new apartment. Together."

Over the next few days, things were very much the same. The pair's searches continued, Dakota mainly getting rejected for not having required skills, or being given a chance only to be fired nigh-immediately once his true lack of skill was revealed through what always managed to be a spectacular accident. As he met up with Cav, sopping wet and telling of a failed venture in underwater welding that had resulted in the shameful sinking of a floating restaurant, he was starting to think he was going to have to settle for mainly grunt work, just like his young adult days. He was not looking forward to that concept.

Meanwhile Cavendish had landed the sky writing position. He had the necessary skills, but Dakota couldn't help worry about him up there in the sky, all alone, at risk of dying in a fiery ball of gassy exploding engine death. Cavendish informed him that his description of this perceived scenario was heartwarming.

On a more positive note, an apartment was found easily enough. It was small, but far grander than what either of them had ever had before, and it came equipped with its own bathroom. Both could admit it was a little sad that multiple rooms and a built-in bathroom was exciting, but that didn't stop them from prancing around the place and excitedly opening and closing those doors as they gushed about it.

They helped one another move their things. Cavendish's belongings were rather easy to transport in a rented moving truck, as he had maintained a modest living, but Dakota's things proved a bit weightier. Cavendish had been looking forward to some insight as to how his partner had been choosing to live by his lonesome, and he'd expected somewhat of a slovenly mess, but nothing prepared him for what _was_ waiting for him.

Instruments. Dakota's apartment was packed with a wide range of scattered musical instruments, from clarinet, to harmonica, to drum set, to theremin. Cavendish supposed it made sense for Dakota to have stored them somewhere, as he'd seen the other man play on more than one occasion, but only now did it hit how many instruments Dakota really played. And he played them well. Did the Italian do almost nothing but practice music in his spare time? Stepping over to a microphone on a stand, Cavendish touched it gently and turned his raised brow to the frizzy-haired man who was picking up an alto saxophone and looking around for the right case amid the haphazard placement of clothing, instruments, electronic entertainment and nerdy reading material. "Do you really play _all_ of these?"

Glancing over, Dakota shrugged. "Yeah? I like music. So?"

"Well yes, I'm aware of _that,"_ the other pressed, "But I hadn't realized how _many_ instruments you played..! It must take incredible dedication to master them all. How long have you been playing these?"

Finding the correct case, putting the saxophone in and snapping the clasps shut, Dakota shrugged, "Oh, y'know, mostly picking them up here and there over the past ten years...I've always turned to music when I get lonely, and well…" A soft clear of his throat, not meaning to implicate guilt on Cavendish's part. "I mean the harmonica, that was the first thing I picked up when I left home. Seemed drifter-appropriate. Just kinda went from there."

Even if Dakota wasn't trying to blame him, the grey-haired Brit couldn't help but feel guilt anyway. His partner had coped with rejection and all of his pent-up feelings over the years by adding onto this expansive library of instruments? How could he not feel responsible?

Like reading his mind, Dakota beamed. "I know that look. Don't feel bad, Cav, really. It's an impulse. A hobby. Like eating..!"

Cavendish's brow knitted. As if he didn't know by now that eating was one of Dakota's favorite coping mechanisms as well. Although it _was_ something he just enjoyed, which was likely the lighthearted angle the man in sunglasses was going for. Dakota carried on with his smile, "One thing I _haven't_ learned, though...piano~. Always kinda hoped you'd wanna get in on this at some point. Whaddya think, you wanna have a jam sesh sometime?" He picked up a banjo and plucked a few quick notes. "Two rockin' dudes, rockin' out...it'll be like we're a garage band, only...without the garage. Or the rock, if we're goin' banjo and baby grand..." He quirked a brow at himself, maybe not having selected the most appropriate pairing of words and visuals.

The taller man couldn't help cracking up into a slight giggle. The mental image of the two of them in some garage, decked out in grunge clothing while playing those two instruments was too much. "You're silly, you know that?" Incredibly sweet as well. Dakota had still dreamt of sharing a musical moment with Cavendish even through his lonely hours pouring himself into his hobby. And he didn't want his partner to blame himself.

"Silly like a fox..!" Dakota grinned, "Made you smile."

A further tut at that as Cav passed the other a fond look and relented, "I suppose you did. So why haven't you made an effort to make something of _this_ then?" A gesture around the room. "Clearly you have a talent. I've seen you play. Why not search for a way to capitalize on it? You know, rather than shirking your job duties for it or simply providing my life with a comedy backing track?" A slight tinge of annoyance graced Cavendish's features there, but the jab maintained its friendliness.

In response, Dakota leaned over to a shelf to swap his banjo for a trombone, and blew out a very ploppy note that extended and lowered flatly in unimpress. In turn he cracked a grin at Cav's pout. But then, looking around at all the things he certainly did know he could play, he observed, "I...have no idea. I guess I just never really thought of it as a skill..? It's always just been a hobby. Somethin' I do, y'know? I just never put that together." He spread and brought his hands together a few times, marveling at this. "But you're totally right. Hey, we could _both_ do that! We could play together, make a killing off that banjo-piano rock band idea." A trigger finger was shot Cav's way. "Way safer than that airplane job, too."

The taller man's lips shifted hearing that concern brought back up. It wasn't as though the concern wasn't appreciated, but he _did_ still have his own skills! He was unlucky, he accepted, but he'd never been in danger in the air. He wanted to prove he could handle himself. Also, he wasn't sold on that idea the way Dakota was presenting it. "No, thank you," he declined dryly. An amusing mental image, sure, but he didn't think that two-man band idea could really fly, especially when one of them only played one instrument that didn't exactly mesh with the majority of his partner's.

Dakota's lips shifted in turn. Well, if nothing else, he was going to keep wheedling for a jam session. Passing off the decline for now, he gestured to the mess that needed packing and ordered, "Ok, fine. Anyway, I don't see much packing going on here. You get the drums, the sousaphone, the mic amps…"

Sensing a weight-related trend in the items being listed, Cav placed his wrists on his hips and challenged, "And what will _you_ be contributing..?"

"Ambiance," Dakota smirked, "I'm the backing track for your life, remember?" He placed the trombone back to his lips and began bouncing in time as he tooted out a jaunty, encouraging tune.

Cavendish's arms slumped forward as he let out an exasperated note himself and rolled his eyes for the ceiling. Now the joke had crossed the line into grating. "Dakota, I'm not moving _all_ of-"

Dakota blew a louder note to cut him off and traipsed a little dance backwards as he carried on playing.

"Dakota..! _Dakota!"_ Irate, Cav hunched and followed the dancing fool with his eyes as he danced, continuing to try and interject, but the brunette merely went on with his tune. Leaning in close, he horned a particularly loud note that frazzled the mustached man's facial hair. That got Cavendish properly frustrated and he swiped the brass instrument harshly, but under his steely gaze Dakota merely shrugged, "What, not a marching band fan? No problem, thanks for gettin' that, by the way. Think the case is over there." He thumbed for a pile of clothes and picked up an ukulele.

Realizing he'd been duped, watching Dakota's hips sway as he now picked up his tune in a more Calypso fashion, Cavendish huffed. "What do I see in you again..?" he questioned flatly.

With a cheeky smile, Dakota leaned in sideways, tipping his head with doe eyes made at the other before turning his head to give Cav a short peck on the lips for putting up with his clowning harassment.

Cavendish instinctively felt his hackles lower, although he couldn't help being a bit resentful towards his own weakness to this sporadic show of affection. Dakota hadn't been lying when he'd said he was going to enjoy getting to kiss his partner without fear.

"Oh right...that."

Certainly reminded of Dakota's good points in that one instant, Cavendish hemmed and felt inclined enough to move towards the pile of clothing the case for the trombone he held went with. However, as he lifted a few undershirts, he let out a sharp exclamation of revile and recoiled just as sharply. "Good heavens! How _old_ is that?!"

A pizza box was at the center of this pile, on top of the trombone case, open and positively caked in green mold.

Dakota stopped playing and blinked, looking at the offending garbage. "Oh...so that's where that went. I was looking for that."

Puffing up, Cavendish scolded, "That does it! You're scouring every inch of this place for rogue snack foods, and then scouring it with disinfectant! And as long as you're living with _me,_ you're not to eat anything without my seeing so! Who _knows_ where it will end up otherwise!"

With another glance at the ancient pizza box that was admittedly disgusting even by his standards, Dakota had to grant, "Yeah, that's fair."


End file.
